The Prince and The Gift
by MikeTheFairy
Summary: Prince Viktor hated war. He hated slavery. He hated anything that could make one feel lesser than an other. But one day, he was offered a very special... gift. A man. A man with the most beautiful face and loving eyes he had ever seen. A man that must hate him for what he was, and yet, he couldn't help the warm feeling at his sight. This man was a captured slave named Yuuri.
1. Chapter 1: Sunlight

**CHAPTER ONE: Sunlight**

The afternoon sun lit the pale room through wide, floor-to-ceiling windows. Heavy velvet cream-coloured curtains were held on their sides by golden cords. A large throne made of rich decorated wood stood on an elevated platform at the back of the room, sole furniture to be seen. A man sat on the chair, his skin as pale as the cold marble floor and his silver hair shining under the sun. Prince Viktor was seated in his private audience room, fingers tapping restlessly on his chin. His gorgeous features were painted with annoyance, his normally clear blue eyes the color of stormy skies. Yakov, his closet counsellor and chief of the army, had requested to see him, and alone at that. The prince knew that it couldn't be anything good. At best, a sermon for whatever wrong move he did, at worst, the news of a battle lost. They were in an ongoing war against an exotic country whose resources had unfortunately caught the eye of their king. The conflict seemed to stretch on forever, with no end in sight. Their armies were growing tired, and even though they had won a brilliant victory a few weeks ago at a major battle, the troops were quickly losing motivation. Not that the prince had any interest in keeping the troops motivated to begin with... He hated war. It was complex, boring, expensive and above all, it hurt people who didn't deserve whatever horrors happened to them. All of this for the sake of a tiny piece of land, or some shiny metal that wasn't even that pretty. He sighed heavily, sulking as he dreaded the arrival of his general and whatever bad omen he carried with him.

Three precise knocks echoed in the otherwise empty room. Viktor gathered his courage and dignity, and spoke loud and clear:

"You may enter."

Two guards opened the double doors, as a third stepped in to announce his visitor: "General Yakov asks for a private audience, your Highness."

The prince waved his hand gracefully, granting him permission to come forth. Of course he knew it was Yakov. But he somehow still managed to follow the etiquette Lilia had spent so many years drilling in his head. The balding counsellor came in, and Viktor saw he was clad in his finest military uniform, evidently coming back from an official errand. However, what caught his attention was the small form hunched timidly behind Yakov, head bowed and upper back slumped in a sign of submission. Viktor could not see the face hidden behind a vivid pink veil, but judging by the flat chest and slightly broad shoulders, he could assume the figure was male. His legs were clad in loose-fitted yellow and orange silk hanging low on his hips, showing off most of his stomach. Transparent red and pink scarfs were draped over his arms and upper torso, ending right under his nipples and hiding nothing more. His feet were bared and his ankles were adorned with golden anklets connected by a small chain, and his wrists were bound in the same fashion. Heavy earrings, necklaces and other bands forged in the same metal covered the rest of his body, making him shine like a gem. His whole outfit was the color of sunset, the warm tones contrasting against his pale skin. Viktor frowned. The man was dressed in a dancer's clothes. A slave dancer. The prince had never ordered for one, and he never would. The thought of owning someone, as if a human being could be an object or a prized possession was enough to make him throw up. At best, they were a piece of furniture to expose in the ballroom along with the dishes, or at worst a sex toy, something to use in the most degrading way possible and then throw away when he got bored, was enough to make him throw up. As soon as he had gotten the palace's governance, he had banned any form of slavery in his county. No slave workers, entertainers, cooks, and certainly not dancers, which always ended up in a noble's bed just to keep food in their bellies. If there was one thing he could do for society, that would be it. The king didn't like it, and some other districts complained against his measures, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It disgusted him too much, and even if he was still forced to participate in the kingdom's military campaigns, at least he would try and bring a little peace and happiness to his home. But now, years after he had put the ban in action, there was a dancer standing in his castle, right in front of his eyes. What was he doing there? What had Yakov planned this time? Who was he? What was the meaning of this?

"Your Highness." said Yakov, bowing low. "Pardon the intrusion, but you have been offered a gift." The young covered man behind the general stepped forward hesitantly, and very slowly dropped to his knees in front of Viktor, where the counsellor had put a golden key on the ground. He looked like he had troubling moving, and felt very uncomfortable in the light clothing. His eyes were glued to the marble floor.

Viktor's brain took a moment to understand what was happening. A... gift? Realization spread through him like a spark, and he sharply rose to his feet. "Yakov! What... H-How... How dare you offer me... a _human being_?" He was shouting, he knew it, but he couldn't help losing his composure at the general's horrifying suggestion. The prince lowered his scandalized gaze to the veiled form at his feet and saw that he was shaking under the strength of his anger. He probably thought it was aimed at him, and that he would pay for whatever he did that made Viktor upset. A sharp pang of guilt and pity hit the prince, and he tried to speak more softly as he opened his mouth again.

"You... You know how I feel about our country's practices... with slaves..." The last words were uttered through gritted teeth, despite his attempts at calming himself. The boy in front of him probably didn't understand a word he said, since he spoke to Yakov in his native language and not the common tongue, and even still he looked petrified. The poor guy had done nothing to feel so afraid in front of Viktor, and it hurt so much to see him like this.

"I am aware, Your Highness. However, this is a gift from the king, to thank you for your involvement in our latest victory. It is hardly something that you or I can refuse. And even then..." Yakov cut himself off, looking hesitatingly to the side. The prince snapped:

"What?"

Yakov took a deep breath and spoke fast.

"... And even then I believe it will do you good, my Lord, to have some company. I know you feel lonely, and the boy is quite a beauty in all honesty, he should be of your taste-" Viktor sharply raised a hand to stop him. His eyes were shut tightly, mouth twisted with disgust.

He could barely speak.

"Get. Out."

After a short silence, he heard Yakov walking back towards the exit. Once the doors where closed behind him, he finally let out a deep sigh and slumped back on his throne. He covered his face with his hand, willing for all of this to be a joke, for the poor man to have disappeared when he would open his eyes again. But no, the chained form at his feet was still there, making himself look as small as he could, staying completely still and barely making a sound. It hurt so, so badly to see this much fright and resignation contained in one little, fragile body that Viktor felt his chest go completely tight. _This_. This was why he had ordered the ban. So he would never again have to see someone fear they would be treated as less than human. So he would never see again someone so terrified of him they could barely breathe, when really they had done nothing, _nothing_. They were simply born, in the wrong body, or the wrong place, and would spend their lifetime paying for an existence they never even asked for. The prince got up, and silently walked the few steps that separate him from the boy. He did not want this. He did not want to see this man so terrified, he did not want him to feel he had to lie on the ground like this, prostrate and submissive, offering his soul and body without any respect left to who he was to a man who had nothing more than he did. Viktor stopped a few feet away, and sat down. He would have to be careful in his gestures and words, as the boy was probably convinced he was about to either jump him, hit him, or kill him. He looked closer and he found that the colorfully clad figure was quivering, like a leaf caught in a breeze and too frail to resist it. Viktor sighed again softly, pained at how vulnerable the other looked. His eyes stung a bit.

"I... I am sorry."

The prince spoke as gently as possible as to not appear as a threat, and he took his time to articulate his words in common speech so he would be understood.

"I am so sorry that you have to be here against your will. I... I am sorry that you were forced into this, and treated as a mere possession that could be given or taken. I assure you this... this is not how I see you or how I will treat you. I would like to take responsibility for your situation, if you would allow it. I... I'd like to care of you to the best of my abilities. Only if you want to, that is. I... I also promise that I will not hurt you, and if I do so involuntarily, please tell me."

The smaller male did not speak, although Viktor could see his brows furrowed throughout the pink veil. He must have had dark hair if he could see them behind the fabric.

"Do... Do you understand what I say?" The little shape slowly nodded, albeit a bit hesitatingly. " _He probably didn't expect me to say something like that"_ , thought Viktor, sadness filling his heart and making his eyes water again. He took a moment to collect himself and breathe deeply. Once, twice. He could do this. He would talk his way to the man's heart, he would make him feel safe, then he would take care of him and set him free as soon as he would be ready for the real world again.

"You are in my country here, and I am responsible for the district this palace is in. You see, here there is a rule, a law, that no person will ever be treated as less than human, and no one will ever have to serve another without salary or consent. You probably know you have been brought here as a slave. I will not treat you as such. My king may think this is a respectable practice, but I don't. Do you understand?"

This time he nodded his head a little more confidently. Viktor could even see he was shooting quick glances upwards, probably trying to see his face and judge his expression. Good. There was hope after all.

"Hum... I am going to ask something of you, and know that you can refuse if you don't want to." The figure tensed up. Oh no. "Please don't be worried, I simply don't want you to feel so... restrained." Viktor just couldn't stand how the man's clothes were so demeaning. He was half dressed and yet a veil covered his features, as if who he was wasn't important, as long as his body could do the job.

"Could I... see your face?" he asked in a soft voice. The captive waited a beat, and acquiesced by raising his head. Viktor could make out rounded cheeks and big eyes. He seemed a bit younger than him. Since the boy didn't move further, he raised a hand to remove the fabric but the other flinched immediately. Viktor stopped. Concern spread over the prince's features. Had he been abused? Most likely. By his previous masters, or by Yakov's men? The mere idea made the man's jaw clench stiffly. He kept his hand in midair and waited for the other to relax, and shift back into his initial position. Then, he reached out and delicately lifted the veil, folding it back on the top of his head. Viktor's breath suddenly caught in his throat. _He was stunning._ The man in front of him was the embodiment of beauty. His silky black hair was slicked back, showing off a stunning face structure, as well as wide, tantalizing deep brown eyes, filled with so many emotions that the prince felt he could drown in them. He didn't know anymore if it was awe or grief that dominated his heart. A soft, pink blush tainted his cheeks, the same color as his plump lips. Viktor gently brushed the back of his hand on the porcelain skin. It was just as soft as he had imagined. Suddenly, something wet fell on his fingers, and he realized tears were rolling down the boy's face, taking some golden powder, makeup, and pride with them. He quickly wiped them with his thumb, despair showing in his voice: "No, no, please don't cry... I promise you'll be okay, you are safe with me, I will not hurt you. Please... I swear. I won't hurt you..." Viktor's own eyes were humid again as he felt the other's suffering hit him like a tidal wave. The dark-haired man breathed shakily, trying to get the sobs to disappear. However, a light danced in his eyes behind the water, shining as if it could say how strong the boy could be, how still willing to fight he was. The power of his spirit surprised Viktor immensely. He seemed destroyed, both physically and mentally, and yet he was still standing there with some energy to save his life. Admiration overcame the prince.

"Please... Could you tell me your name?"

The boy's brows shot up in surprise. Names weren't usually important when you were a slave. Nevertheless, he opened his mouth and parted his lips on a whisper so low Viktor didn't hear any of it. He leaned in a bit, and listened closely.

"Yu... Yuuri..." the man said in a dry, barely noticeable voice. He must have been dehydrated and very weak. The prince smiled a bit. He repeated the precious syllables, careful to get the pronunciation right.

"Yu-uri, Yuuri, is that it?" The boy nodded. Viktor smiled even more. "I like your name. It's delicate, and pretty. Mine is Viktor."

"V...Vik...tor-u..." Yuuri repeated in his hoarse voice, messing up the pronunciation and adding vowels here and there, but Viktor still liked it. "Yes, that's right. _Viktoru_." He was happy at the idea that this way of saying his name would be something Yuuri and he could share, and them only. He didn't quite understand why he fel like this, but joy still warmed him inside. He was also glad the man trusted him enough to give him his name, and try learning his own. He didn't notice he was beaming until he saw a very, very small, barely-there smile on Yuuri's lips as well. Viktor's grin grew even larger, making his mouth look like a heart.

"Can I hold you?" Yuuri seemed confused for a moment and sharply leaned back, smile completely gone, the fighting energy filling his eyes again.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean... I just want to hug you, I didn't mean anything else." Viktor rambled while shaking his head, fearing that his translation mistake had brought them back to square one. He felt so stupid sometimes. He forgot that in common language, holding someone could also mean having sex. He certainly didn't want Yuuri to think he was simply being nice to him so he could sleep with him. Viktor bit his lip but still opened his arms, and waited anxiously. Fortunately, Yuuri seemed to relax when he saw he wasn't moving, and was patiently waiting for him. His beautiful face was scrunched up in concentration, while he weighed whether the prince would be true to his word or not. He must have decided that yes because he just slightly moved forward and closed his eyes, indicating his approval. Viktor gently pulled him close, wrapped his arms protectively around the smaller figure, and slowly leaned Yuuri's head on his chest. He waited a few seconds for rejection, but none came. He started caressing his hair.

"There you go. It's okay now, you're safe. I promise. No one is going to touch you here, not as long as I'm there... I promise..."

Yuuri gradually relaxed in his arms and leaned in closer. He finally let out of the long, heavy breath he had been holding for the past hours. It did seem like he was safe in these arms, at least for now.


	2. Chapter 2: Mercy

**CHAPTER TWO: Mercy**

Yuuri let himself be held by the taller man for long, blissful minutes. It was the first affectionate touch he had received in weeks. He knew this comfort wouldn't last; soon, he would be brought back to reality by a smack or an invasive touch on his already bruised body. But now, just for now, he would allow himself to enjoy the soothing warmth of those strong arms. As time passed, Yuuri felt his trembling slow to a stop, and he could finally breathe. Only then did Viktor move again. The prince slowly outstretched his arm and reached for the golden key on the floor next to the boy, then gently shifted Yuuri to his side.

"I am bringing you to a room close to mine, so you can be safe and rest. I do not want you to strain, so I'd like to carry you. Is that okay?"

Yuuri laid his head on Viktor's chest and closed his eyes, nodding. He felt his strong muscles working under the skin as he picked him up bridal style and made his way through a hidden door on their left. He shut it closely behind them and starting walking in the secret hallways, dark but somehow not menacing. A peaceful silence fell upon them. The prince was truly a beautiful person. His angular features were naturally stunning, with a touch of grace that emanated from his royal persona. He had crystal blue eyes that changed color as fast as the sea, and hair an unusual but nonetheless pretty silver color. His pale skin and elegant manners made him look like some winter deity. In any other circumstances, Yuuri would've blushed just from glancing at him. But now, he was simply worried. One naturally would think being owned by such a good-looking master would have comforted him, but in all honesty, it only made things worse. Pretty people didn't have to be nice to be loved. They could be as cruel and hypocritical as they wanted, and they would still have their faithful bunch of little minions ready to adore them at the flick of a finger. Viktor, also being in a position of power and authority, was most likely an egoistical, self-centred liar. It only made his caring words hurt even more. As far as Yuuri was concerned, this whole "no-slave-law" story and "I would like to care for you" attitude could have just been made up on the spot to make him trust the guy and be compliant. Unfortunately, he didn't have much of a choice at the moment. Not in his state. He was hungry, and hurt, and weak. But Yuuri was no fool. He knew he didn't have much to offer, especially to someone like the prince. He wasn't as beautiful as him, or as strong as him, he had no royal blood, he didn't know that many things... Soon, Viktor would get bored of him. Once he had played enough with him, he would throw him away to be forgotten, sold again, or killed. It terrified Yuuri to realize how much his life depended on him.

All these thoughts broke the relaxed bubble Yuuri's mind had settled itself in. He suddenly felt as if Viktor's hands were intrusive on his skin, too close, too tight. He wanted to get down. He wanted to get down now.

Fortunately, the other sensed his stirring and shushed him softly.

"We're almost there, I promise."

True to his words, after a few more turns in the lantern-lit hallways Viktor stopped. He shifted Yuuri so he could pass his fingers on the empty stone, until a click was heard and a panel of the wall slid to the side.

The smaller man didn't see much of the big, clear room they passed through as they went directly to another door accross it. They stepped in a spacious chamber, illuminated by a pearl chandelier and two tall windows on each side of a large bed. The covers were of a deep blue shade and embroidered with pieces of the precious nacre. Beside it as a mountain of colorful cushions and blankets amassed in a comfortable nest. This is where Viktor set him down, very carefully laying his body on the pillows. Then, he proceeded to gently remove Yuuri's cuffs. His ankles and wrists were a dark purple and red color, and the skin had been quite deeply scratched. The wounds had obviously been made by rough rope though, and not the precious metal the boy had been bound with when he arrived. Vikor took a deep breath.

"Are you comfortable?" The captive nodded. "Good. Yuuri, I know you are hurt. I just need to know where, and how much, so we can treat you properly. Do you... understand? I am not doing this to hurt you. Please, could you... show me your wounds?" The smaller man gulped and looked away in shame. He had been abused, that much was obvious. His flinching away, the marks under the cuffs, how slowly he moved and walked... But he still didn't want to show himself as vulnerable to his owner. He sadly understood he didn't have much of a choice. He knew his master would ask him to undress sooner or later, might as well do it voluntarily and not being forced to expose himself. It might save him a few additional bruises. Yuuri swallowed a choked cry and closed his eyes.

Slowly, he started to remove the layers of fabric one by one. The scarfs on his upper body fell first, revealing a few dark bruises on his arms. Being thrown around here and there by his captors during the trip to the palace had left some marks. His fingers moved to take off the veil on his head, and used it to wipe the makeup from his face and torso. A split lip, a fading dark eye, a few cuts, traces of a hit on his left side and his stomach... Viktor realized the golden powder the man was covered in reflected light and prevented him from noticing any of the wounds earlier. Finally, Yuuri reached for his loose pants and slid them off slowly, wincing as he did. He wore no underwear, as was the tradition for prostitutes. The prince simply wished the other didn't understand the meaning of it. Fortunately, the pale legs were not as bruised as his chest, with only one major blue spot behind his left knee and a few other small ones here and there. The captive lay there, naked for the other's eyes to examine, judge, appreciate, with no dignity left as he waited for his master's reaction. He knew he wasn't much to look at, he just hoped Viktor wouldn't hate what he saw and take it upon himself to make it worse.

The prince didn't say anything for a few seconds. Yuuri was shivering at the cold air against his bare skin, and his throat was tightly closed around his sobs. This was it. This whole suffering of the past weeks had led him there, to this room, completely exposed at a stranger's request who had every right upon his body. He was going to get hurt, or thrown away, he might not even survive this, and he couldn't do anything about it. Rage and uncontrollable fear bubbled up his chest, and he clenched his fists around the fabric he was still holding. He was shaking again. He shut his eyes and braced himself for the first hit.

A hit that never came. A few more seconds passed. When Yuuri finally dared open his eyes again, he had the surprise of his life. The prince was crying. Not very heavily, but those were clearly tears running down his marble cheeks. He didn't even make a move to wipe them. He simply let them fall, free and pure, down the length of his face. The smaller one saw the other swallow thickly a few times before he spoke again. His voice was barely a whisper.

"Did... did they..." A short breath. "Did they ra-" He couldn't even finish his sentence. The prince was biting hard on his lip, fighting against a new wave of fresh tears. Yuuri took pity, and finished his words for him.

"No, they didn't rape me." He spoke very softly. He looked down. "I... I was to be preserved for you." The last syllables got stuck in his throat. He was disgusted at the words, reluctantly letting his lips form them. Viktor closed his eyes and nodded. So the boy knew why he had been brought here. He should have expected so. No one remained this innocent after what he had been through. He got up without a word, disappeared in the other room a few seconds and came back with a heavy blanket. He kneeled beside Yuuri laid it on him, touching him as little as possible. The man looked straight into the dark eyes.

"Yuuri. I might be experienced with wounds, but I need to get someone who really knows what they are doing as not to hurt you more. Please, trust me on this, she is a loyal servant and a very good friend. She wouldn't do wrong to anyone on purpose, and she won't tell a soul about what she sees if that's what you want. Please. I... I need you to tell me this is okay."

Yuuri didn't know what demons possessed him that instant, but he nodded. No. This wasn't okay. He didn't trust this man. He didn't know that lady. But somehow, something in Viktor's eyes made his head move on its own. The man sighed in relief. He got up again, went to another door accross from the slave and disappeared in the hallway.

Yuuri really wasn't sure what had just happened, but he felt just as relieved as the prince.


	3. Chapter 3: Care

**CHAPTER THREE: Care**

Viktor was practically running down the hallway in a matter of seconds. He didn't even feel his feet rush forward, lost in the feelings roaring in his mind. He didn't notice the doors he swiftly passed by either, nor the concerned looks he got from the people he nimbly dodged in his run. His thoughts were going back and forth at a dizzying speed, clouding his head with worry. So the boy knew. Yuuri was aware of the use Viktor was supposed to make of him. No wonder he had been so scared of simply being touched. It made his heart tighten in pain. But now wasn't the time to deal with his pain. Yuuri was suffering much more than he was, and he needed help, now. So the prince ran. He ran as much as he could without pushing everybody out of his way, quickly heading to the palace doctor's office. Fortunately, Mila had settled not too far from the prince's quarters, so she could get there rapidly if the need arose. In this moment, Viktor felt so glad she had actually been this thoughtful.

He bursted through the double doors leading to the cozy waiting room, startling the few patients waiting there.

"Where's Dr. Babicheva!" He spoke curtly, stunning the people around him. The prince was never this impolite, even when he was angry... The impatient stomping of his foot brought them back their frozen shock. A few fingers pointed towards a closed door on the right, at the beginning of a short corridor. The prince disappeared in the hallway.

He barely resisted the urge to just reach for the handle and managed to knock instead. A muted voice answered after a few seconds.

"Just a minute please. I'll be free son, if you'd like to take a seat in the waiting room-"

"Mila." Viktor didn't think he had ever said her name so desperately. He heard a few shuffles and the door was cracked opened.

"Your Highness?" The redhaired lady was looking at him with wide eyes.

"I... I need your help". She shot him a curious glare, trying to understand exactly what was going on. She quickly looked over to the patient seated at her desk, before answering in a wary tone.

"Okay... Can you give me... ten minutes?" The man stared at her, trying to convey all the urgency he could muster. He was pleading with his eyes for her to make it quick. Somehow, she got the message.

"I'll make it five".

Viktor sighed in relief as the door closed on his face. He knew Yuuri wasn't technically in such an emergency state, but he just couldn't stand the idea of leaving him alone for too long. No one could enter his private quarters without his authorization, but what if someone did, and they found Yuuri like this, and the poor man could barely walk, what would he do if...

No. Panicking about hypothetical situations wouldn't help Yuuri in any way. Right now, the prince needed his mind fully there and functional. He leaned his back against the closest wall, breathing deeply to calm himself. After what seemed like an eternity, the door finally opened again on Mila quickly thanking his patient and sending him on his way. She took Viktor by surprise as she grabbed his wrist and tugged him in her office.

"Are you okay? Did you break something again? Where does it hurt?" She was already checking him all over when he finally managed to place a word.

"Mila, Mila I'm fine, but I need you to follow me." She stopped her examination, and frowned as she looked up at the man. He tried to look as innocent as he could "Please, I swear, I didn't do anything! But there's someone who needs your help." She obviously didn't believe the prince had nothing to do with the situation, but she nonetheless grabbed her emergency kit and followed him.

They made their way almost as fast as Viktor had come, leaving even more confused stares on their trail. However, the tall man stopped dead in his tracks in front of his private quarter's door. He suddenly moved as gently as he could and knocked timidly on the wood.

"Yuuri? It's me, Viktor, I'm back..." He didn't open the door until he was sure he had heard some small acknowledgment. He let Mila go in first, following her with, wary steps, as if he was afraid of startling an untamed animal. The doctor shot him a curious glare, and searched the room for the source of the prince's odd behaviour. He eyes finally settled on a small form vanishing in an indistinguishable pile of cushions and blanket. Two deep brown eyes peeking out in curiosity and worry. Somehow, that gaze immediately gained Mila's sympathy.

"Hello... My name is Mila, and I am the palace's head doctor. What is your name?" She came a bit closer as she spoke, making little steps here and there.

"Yuuri." The cover muffled the small voice, but she heard it anyway.

"Yuuri... I have a friend with the same beautiful name. But... I'm guessing you are not from around here?" She moved forward again, as he shook his head and looked in Viktor's direction. Hadn't he told her anything?

"Well, I'd like to welcome you here, Yuuri, even if it's in such circumstances... Please, could you let me see where it hurts? I'd like to help you, if you would let me." She was crouching at the boy's side by then. She had clear blue eyes, and high, round cheeks. She was a gorgeous woman, but it wasn't as much her looks that calmed Yuuri down as her soft voice and the friendly smile lightening her face. His eyes flickered to Viktor, hesitating. Mila picked up the gesture immediately.

"Oh! You don't have to worry about him, he will look away, or he could go in the other room if you'd prefer that." Viktor was about to protest but shut his mouth at the vicious glare the doctor shot him. A huff left his lips.

Yuuri watched the exchange with curiosity, and wondered what exactly was the nature of their relationship. It wasn't that he wanted Viktor to leave; he would actually feel more comfortable if he weren't completely alone with someone he didn't know. However, it did reassure him to know that the prince would allow him some privacy.

"He can stay..." He muttered in a small voice. Mila smiled at him again. "But please turn around. I-I know you've... already seen it all but... but I'd like to keep it at that, please." Yuuri was looking down in shame, cheeks pink with embarrassment. Viktor's eyes went wide as the doctor looked at him with a death threat in her eyes. He shook his hands in front of him and stuttered in panick.

"It's... It's not what you think! I... I didn't touch him or anything! Well, I did... B-but I didn't do anything!" She shot him a stern glare.

"Viktor Dvoryanin Nikiforov Tretiy, you of all people should know never to touch a patient before I arrive."

"I know, bu-"

"No buts! What if what you touched had just made his state worse, hm? Don't you know how dangerous that is?" Viktor opened his mouth, but thought better than to try and reply and shut his lips. He lowered his gaze to the ground in defeat. Mila sighed at the hurt puppy look on the prince's face.

"You better not do it again. Now turn around, stay still, and be good. Understood?" The prince nodded weakly and followed the orders. Mila turned back to Yuuri, who was looking at the pair with a face full of incredulity and a hint of amusement. The redhaired laughed at his confusion.

"I know the prince is all grown up, but sometimes I wonder if he isn't just a child stuck in a man's body." An offended whimper stirred from the other side of the room. This actually resulted in a pale smile appearing on the foreign man's lips. Good, thought Mila, she was getting him to relax. The doctor looked at Yuuri in his eyes to get one last approval before removing the blanket, and got to work. She spoke as her hands explored the naked skin, to distract him a bit from the physical intrusion.

"When he was younger, Viktor used to get hurt all the time, so he ended up in my office quite often. Now, I regret a bit showing him how I treated his wounds. He started believing he could take care of them all by himself without doing anything stupid."Another sound of protestation arose, but Mila blatantly ignored it. Her touch moved to Yuuri's ribs, nodding as he flinched away in pain when she felt them. "You know, I'm quite a few years older than Viktor, but I started working when I was pretty young and with how frequently he came to see me, I'm not very surprised that we became friends fast." She was grinning at the memory, as she moved to examine Yuuri's legs. "Actually, with how lonely he was, I became something like a sister to him. And he became a brother for me too!" She paused. "Okay, a few dozens-social-ranks-above-me brother, but still a brother." It was hard not to smile at her energy and affection. Even the slave found it in him to smirk a bit.

After a quick check of the boy's crotch and ass, she let go of his body and reached for her medical kit. "Yuuri, you are a very lucky man. Whatever happened to you, you have no permanent damage, and almost nothing internal. You have a few bruised ribs, but somehow nothing's broken, and all your organs seem clear. I'll do another check up in a few days, but I don't think I'll find anything else. For now, I'll I'm going to do is clean and cover your cuts, okay?" The dark haired man nodded. He knew that even if he had been mistreated, his kidnappers had managed not to hurt him too much. Otherwise he wouldn't have been in a proper state to be offered to Viktor. What a twisted luck...

The doctor went on with her recommendations. "For your ribs, all you have to do is put some ice on them, and breathe deeply a few times a day. I know it hurts, but you have to if you don't want to get an infection. Okay? I'll also give you some opiates pills for the pain, but please go easy on these, only once a day..." Yuuri nodded. "Some ice on your eye too will help. I have a lotion for that as well. You'll also need a lot of rest." She paused, as if she was expecting something. "Viktor? You heard me?" The prince suddenly seemed to come back to life.

"Yes! Yes, I heard! Ice, painkillers, breathing and sleeping! See? I do listen when you speak!" he answered quickly.

"Only when it suits you..." Mila muttered under her breath, earning a falsely offended scoffed from the man. She looked at Yuuri again, speaking low like she was sharing some kind of secret. "Don't worry about him, he's a bit of a drama queen." The boy smiled even more at that. Indeed, he had noticed. The lady patted his knee and covered him with the blanket again. "Well! Now that you are all patched up, I should go back to my patients. You know that Viktor came rushing in my office like someone had just lost a leg? He didn't even give me time to finish my consultation!" Yuuri gazed over to the man still obediently facing the wall. It was funny how he seemed to become more... human under Mila's words. He wasn't so much this beautiful, distant master anymore, as he was a person, with his perks and flaws. The captive could even appreciate how thoughtful he had been, rushing over to the doctor when really, there had been no emergency. It warmed him a bit inside, making the dread a little less suffocating. Mila watched the boy as worry slowly left the brown eyes, replaced by something more peaceful and understanding. She came closer one last time, whispering.

"I do not know what brought you here, and what you've been through, but please be assured that you have a friend in me. And in Viktor too. He seems to have taken a liking to you, and he takes very good care of the people he holds dear. You do not have to be afraid." With that, she winked at him, and went to pick up her stuff. "I'll be on my way then! Please take care of yourself Yuuri, and Viktor, I better not see you touch a patient again before I do!" The poor man fidgeted with his hands, looking at the floor like a scolded child.

"Yes Mila..." She kept her serious face for a few seconds, then dropped it to smile at the prince and hug him.

"I don't see you much these days, you should come more often... Take care of you, too." He hugged her back, and opened the door for her. Just before leaving, she turned to him again.

"Oh, and... Don't do anything stupid." Viktor wasn't even sure what she meant by that, but he still rolled his eyes. God, she could be so much like a mother sometimes...

"Yes, yes, now go or you'll never be done with your patients" He shooed her out, and finally closed the door again.

What stupid thing could he do anyway?


	4. Chapter 4: Before the Light

**CHAPTER FIVE: Before the Light**

As soon as Mila left, tension gripped Yuuri's body again. Now that her soothing presence was gone, his anxiety came rushing back, fear twisting every word and gesture. Parts of the last things she said still resonated in his nervous mind. He seems to have taken a liking to you... He takes very good care of the people he holds dear... What did she mean by that? It sure didn't sound good to him. What if the prince actually liked what he saw? What would he do then? Did it mean he had other slaves to whom he had given the same treatment? Where were they now? Were they even still alive?

He couldn't help jumping when the silver-haired man turned around to look at him. He curled in on himself, small hands desperately clutching at the blanket barely covering his nakedness. He felt completely exposed as the prince watched him closely, eyes questioning his sudden change of demeanor. The master spoke carefully, remaining near the door as he addressed the slave.

"You must be thirsty. I'll bring you some water, and then we can see what you want to eat, if you are hungry. Is that okay with you?"

The smaller male nodded stiffly. His eyes followed Viktor warily as he made his way to a door opposite of where they had come from, opening it to reveal a luminous bathroom. The man walked in and Yuuri heard a tap being opened and water running. The prince came back a few seconds later with a pitcher full of the precious liquid and a small glass. Yuuri subconsciously leaned away as Viktor came closer, making himself as small as possible. The man gently set the glass on a low table a few feet away from the nest of cushions. He filled it and put down the pitcher, but didn't hand the water to Yuuri as the boy had been expecting. He simply took a few steps back, and smiled softly.

"Would you like to have something to eat, Yuuri? Maybe a light meal, so it doesn't make you sick..."

The younger man stared at the floor, face twisting with doubt. He couldn't deny it, he was awfully hungry. Days of semi-starvation and incessant walking had taken a toll on his body, and if he didn't eat soon, he would only get weaker. But at the same time, what if the prince poisoned the food, so he would die rapidly without making a fuss? Was he already tired of him? Or what if all of this was just some sort twisted game? What if the man would bring food, but used it to force him in doing whatever sick things a slave was for before he was allowed to eat...

Yuuri clenched his fists. In the end, he couldn't really say no. He desperately needed to eat, and apparently this man would be his provider from now on. He also had no wish to make the man angry if he refused, seeing how terrifying he had been in that audience room. The dark-haired boy huffed in frustration. He could only hope that if the prince wanted him dead, he would already be. If he was lucky, he would actually get some food, be it through sex or not. The slave moved his head up and down reluctantly, nodding.

"Okay, Yuuri. Would oatmeal be good?"

The smaller male nodded again. That was a lie. He didn't like oatmeal, but he wasn't sure he could actually voice his preferences. He stubbornly stared at the floor instead, hoping the gesture wouldn't be perceived as rude. Rice, he wanted rice... The prince, seeing that he wasn't getting any other response, simply nodded and smiled cheerfully.

"Oatmeal it is then! I'll go get you the best cereal the kitchen has!" The man happily trotted towards the door, then suddenly turned back on his heels to face the slave as he remembered something. Yuuri immediately flinched at the movement, raising his arms over his face. Viktor froze, eyes going wide at the defensive gesture. Any previous thoughts flew his mind as he furrowed his brows, wondering what he had done to provoke such a reaction from the smaller man.

When deep brown eyes peaked between forearms at the master's silence, Yuuri saw the frown on the pale face and the stern blue eyes looking at him. The slave starting trembling again, panic overtaking his body. He had denied his master. His master had wanted to come back and punish him, probably because he had been rude, and then he had denied him. He had tried to prevent the prince from disciplining him, which was his master's right. And now, he was going to pay the price for his insolence.

Yuuri's eye were wide open but saw nothing of the room in front of him. He was desperately searching for his breath, cold sweat dripping down his back and only increasing the shivers. His body was so stiff he couldn't even bring himself to move his arms away from his face and accept the beating. The thought made him bite his cheek so hard he tasted blood. Was that how low he had fallen? Was he really just going to brace himself and take it? He thought he had more fight left in him than that... But he didn't. He wouldn't be able to get past the prince if he tried. He didn't have enough strength to fight. Even if he succeeded, he wouldn't have the energy to run for long. Hell, he didn't even know how to get out of there. He could try to find Mila, but even then, he wasn't sure she was really an ally. Maybe it would just make things worse... He really had to stay there and take it. He couldn't do anything. He just... couldn't.

Slow movement in front of him brought Yuuri's eyes back into focus. He saw Viktor slowly sit down in front of him, legs crossed and hands on his knees, where he could see them. The prince wasn't looking at him, keeping his eyes low as not to appear confronting.

"Yuuri... I'm sorry I scared you. Was... was it the way I moved? It wasn't my intention to frighten you."

Indeed, the slave realized, he had reacted upon seeing Viktor abruptly turn around. His body and mind simply hated how they couldn't predict the man's movements or actions, and went immediately into a defensive overdrive. Viktor nodded shyly in understanding.

"Please forgive me. I just... I just thought you might appreciate wearing some clothes, and... I got overexcited at the idea of taking care of you. I didn't consider that it might affect you like this."

Yuuri's eyes got even wider at the prince's explanation. That was... it? The man had been eager to... take care of him? It didn't make much sense. He knew he would require extra time and attention to anyone who would even bother to look after him. Why would the prince want to make the effort? From the moment he met him, Yuuri just couldn't tell what would be his master's next move. He thought he had had his share of surprises and panics in the last few hours, and yet the prince still managed to remain completely unreadable to Yuuri. The slave's eyes were wide, and his throat was closed on his words.

"Yuuri, is it okay if I get you some clothes? I just have to get up and go into my room…"

The boy nodded reflexively. He didn't know what to say, not after having being so rude to his master, who apparently only wanted to care for him.

The prince came back a few seconds later with a bathrobe in hand. He walked around Yuuri, careful not to get too close, and put the garment on the small table beside the pitcher. He then left the room without another word, leaving the boy in stunned silence.

 _Three days ago_

After days and days of walking that had turned into weeks, Yuuri finally saw the first traces of a foreign civilization. After a brief stop by the king's palace, where he got examined and kneaded at by doctors and the monarch himself, he was thrown back on the road with a company of a few men and a sour-looking officer, going by the name of General Yakov from what Yuuri understood. After some more travelling and a few sunrises, they arrived at another castle, smaller in size but nonetheless palatial. As soon as he had set foot passed some secondary gates, he was pushed near the servants' secluded doors and stripped naked by the soldiers. Then, he was violently drenched in cold water, despite his begging screams and clattering teeth. They threw a rag at him and ordered him to wash, completely exposed to the wary stares of domestics passing by. Yuuri was shivering, hands unsteady as he carefully scrubbed his bruised skin. He kept his head down, shame cutting through him like a white hot knife. He could feel the gazes on his skin as if they were a physical touch, intruding on his intimacy, ripping him from his dignity. His whole body was quivering from the cold, skin going blue with the lack of heat. One of the company's men disappeared in the castle as the others kept showering him in the near freezing water. After they deemed him clean enough, they grabbed Yuuri by the arm and dragged him inside without giving him the chance to put his dirt-stained underwear back on. The humiliation became unbearable as people passing by glowered at his naked body with looks of shock and fear. He felt a few tears drip down his cheeks and onto his twitching hands as he stared at the ground. The guard that had left earlier reappeared, and led them through a few corridors. He unceremoniously threw open a door on his right, revealing two ladies looking warily at the intruders. They were nicely dressed, and the room was filled with racks of colorful clothing, fabric, and beauty products. They must have been responsible for the nobles' wardrobe.

 _"That's him. Remember what I said; you better make him all pretty, or the king might be very... disappointed."_

Yuuri didn't understand a word of what the guard told the two ladies, but it got them moving quickly as they grabbed him and sat him on a chair. One maid covered his slowly warming skin with a heavy coat of a strange golden powder, while the other tugged harshly at his hair and draped him in semi-transparent veils that barely hid his nakedness. The push and pull went on for another half hour, and when they were finally done, Yuuri realized he had been left alone with the grouchy-looking general. The man terrified him with his perpetual screaming and imposing demeanor, old scars covering the tough skin.

Yakov grumbled and told the slave to get up. Yuuri jumped at the order spoken in a language he could finally understood, and scrambled to his feet. The general took out fine gold chains and cuffs from a pocket of his uniform, and proceeded to restrain the boy. He also revealed a small leash made of the same material, and began to tie it around Yuuri's wrist, but stopped halfway through. The old man sighed, and undid the knot he had just made.

"Look, you may be a slave, but this is ridiculous. Follow me, don't try anything funny, and nothing bad will happen to you. Am I being clear?"

Yuuri nodded curtly. The man was more than clear. They left the room, and Yakov guided the boy through countless hallways and staircases. As much as he tried, the slave wouldn't even be able to remember where they went and how to get out of the palace. He didn't even notice the beauty of the place, too occupied with following the general's fast pace and trying to disappear under the curious stares all the passersby inevitably shot him. At least he could feel his body heating up as a result of the exercise.

They finally ended up in this big, clear audience room, where a majestic silver-haired man sat on a wooden throne. His icy blue eyes pierced right through him, sternly looking him up and down. The slave dropped to his knees, keeping his eyes on the ground as he couldn't bare to hold that gaze. Then, the prince had exploded with anger.

Yuuri felt panic rushed through his veins. What had he done wrong? Was it that he had looked down? Did he find him ugly? Was he disappointed because he had expected something... easier to use? Perhaps a woman? A younger boy?

He couldn't understand a word that was spoken, but Yuuri was sure of one thing. He was going to die. It might not be right away, but he would die. He would probably survive a few weeks for the prince's enjoyment before passing away. But he would suffer those days until the very last minute. He was going to be hurt, and used, and soiled, until even he would think of himself as a mere toy, a disposable object solely alive to please his master's desire. He would die forgotten, not a drop of dignity left on his abused body. An incontrollable terror settled in his gut, making him shiver like a leaf caught in a tempest. When the prince came closer, he was sure he was about to take the first of a endless series of hits. But there was no hit. Instead, the man simply sat down and started speaking to him.

At first, he didn't even register the words, as familiar as they were, from the confusion he was in. His body screamed at him to get up and run, but his brain was desperately trying the make sense of what was said. When he finally managed to understand the syllables, his throat was so dry from the stress he wasn't even able to pronounce his own name. The tension reached his peak when the prince reached out and touched his face. As soft as the touch was, as much as he wanted to believe the man's words, this was still the hand that would rape him, force its way into him, before wrapping its cold fingers around his naked throat and squeeze the life out of him. This was all just… too much. He was going to die. A lone tear rolled down his cheek.

However, to Yuuri's great surprise, the prince didn't answer with a smack. He actually wiped the drop, and apologized. This was the moment the slave was finally able to truly understand the man's words. Maybe… maybe this wasn't so bad. Maybe he was going to be... okay.


	5. Chapter 5: Awakening

**CHAPTER 6: Awakening**

Yuuri was in absolute bliss; For the first time in weeks, his throat didn't feel dry. Hell, even his ribs didn't hurt as much. Everything around him was soft and fluffy. He was surrounded by a comfortable warmth, as he bathed in a summery glow. He hadn't felt so rested in days, and had absolutely no intention of ever leaving this beatific paradise. His body felt strangely relaxed, his stomach didn't feel so empty, and his legs didn't ache as much. He would let himself float in the delicious numbness for an eternity if it meant he would always feel like this. For once, Yuuri was truly at peace. That is, until his mind snapped him out of it.

The boy sat up promptly and opened his eyes. He looked around him in panic, confused as to where he was. He didn't see any of his warders nearby, and he didn't recognize the luxurious, blue and cream colored room he was in. Maybe he was still asleep and dreaming. Or maybe the army had conquered a new place on the way, as they always did, and had set him there for the night. This seemed was very unlikely, considering he had always slept in the cold basements with the infantry so far. Or maybe... Maybe they had broken their promise of not touching him. Maybe he had spent the night with one of the generals, who hadn't cared enough to send him back to the footmen after they got their pleasure.

That thought filled him with adrenaline and sent his pulse racing, waking him up completely. He didn't remember anything of what happened the night before. Maybe he had been drugged, or perhaps hit on the head. He removed the cover hastily and frantically searched his body for any signs of violation. But instead of finding love marks and semen all over him, he saw he was nicely bandaged and somewhat cleaner than usual. He didn't understand. The boy looked around some more. To his great confusion, there was no other clothing than his own on the floor, and he was clearly alone in bed. Wait, he didn't remember owning that bathrobe...

"Oh."

Suddenly, all the memories of the previous day came rushing back to his mind. The audience room, Prince Viktor, Mila, the oatmeal... Yuuri let out a profoundly relieved sigh, and flopped back on the cushions. "It's okay. Everything's okay." He hadn't been touched. Not yet, at least. As his heart slowly went back to a normal rhythm, he reflected on yesterday's events. He remembered crawling over the cushions and wrapping himself in the robe that had been left on the floor. He had reached for the water on the table and had drunk it straight from the pitcher. Then, he had settled back in his little nest, and had waited for his master to come back. He recalled standing still for quite a while before Viktor reappeared, knocking again before coming in. The prince had brought back two different bowls of oatmeal; one made with milk and the other with water. He had even thrown some strange berries on top and added some sugar, but he had apologized profusely for not putting any more toppings as he was afraid Yuuri's stomach wouldn't be able to take it. Viktor had handed the food to the boy, and grabbed the pitcher to fill it again. Lastly, he had made it clear that Yuuri was free to use the bathroom and settle into bed when he was ready, before making his way to his own bedroom. Just before closing the door, he had turned back to the boy, pausing.

"You... You can lock the door from your side, if you want. I won't be able to open it. But please... don't hesitate to come and get me if anything's wrong." Then, the prince had disappeared in his room for the night.

Yuuri sighed. He had indeed locked the door before going to sleep, but not without any internal debate. He believed he might be able to trust the man but... could he really? He had been placed in the royal suites, right beside the prince's bedroom. Only very close friends and family ever slept there. What were Viktor's true intentions behind this decision? Was it really for his comfort and protection? Or perhaps he was trying to coax Yuuri into believing that he was safe, when in reality he could be killed at a snap of a finger. Or maybe this was just how he treated his slaves, with all the honors and the pampering until it was time for them to begin the real work. He just... he didn't know. Yuuri wasn't sure enough of what the situation was to let himself be vulnerable. So he had locked the door.

The slave let himself fall back into the sheets as he analyzed his situation. In the last twenty-four hours, so much of his life had changed that he wasn't sure anymore what was real and what wasn't. Where was the threat, and where was the hope. He didn't know yet if it would be for best or for worse, but being there, in this suite, all rested and patched up... It definitely felt like an improvement. It could hardly get worse than being thrown around here and there by men who saw him as a piece of meat and groped him when commanding eyes were looking away. In the past weeks he had walked so much, and so far away from home. Home... it felt like he had left decades ago. The smell of the palace's kitchens, the comfort of his room, the hugs from friends, the teasing from his sister, the smiles of his parents... It all felt so, so far away. Yuuri knew the tears were coming before they even filled his eyes.

He rolled on his side and brought his knees to his chest. He missed his family so much... All he could do, when he walked and walked and walked, was think about them. And now that he finally settled, he felt like they had just gone even further. There was no hope of seeing them join him on the road, hiding in the castles the army conquered, or jumping out of some bushes to rescue him, as he had often fantasized. Now, there was definitely no way he would see their faces appear, as slim as the chances of such an encounter had been before. He felt so alone, thrown out there in this world he knew nothing of, where everything was different and empty and hurtful.

From the second he was thrown on the road, Yuuri had been less than himself, less than human. He already knew he was a pretty dull person, at least certainly not someone a prince would find interest in, but it didn't stop it from hurting to be treated like rubbish. Wandering hands grabbing him, slapping him, hitting him... Raspy voices whispering in his ear how much of a waste of space he was, how disgusting he could be... Grotesque tongues saying how lucky he was the generals had ordered them not to touch him, because it would have been nice to see him cry and scream as they had their way with him. Telling him that was all he was good for, anyway. Those same hands pushing him again and again to the ground, making sure his ties would cut his skin with how tight they were. Someone holding his jaw open as an other spit in his mouth _; 'you're lucky you're not getting my cum, you whore...'_ Those hands that brought him his meal only gave him half and then ate the rest, because _'a bitch doesn't deserve that food, it's not doing anything anyway, it's just being carried around all day.'_ Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could still feel them on him. No matter how hard he wiped and scratched his skin, the memory of their hands just wouldn't go away, he could still _feel_ them. Their feet, too. They would push him, kick him out of the way, stomp him until he stopped begging for the water he wasn't given that morning. His ribs reminded him of those feet with every move he made.

Yuuri was shuddering, trying to keep his sobs quiet as warm tears were dampening his cheeks. He felt so small, curled up on himself like that in the large bed. How angry he was at himself for being so miserable. How furious he was for letting them do anything and everything, just for a bit of stale bread. He remembered how one of the men once grabbed him, drunk out of his mind, and took his putrid cock out just to shove it in Yuuri's face. The boy had kept his lips tightly shut and crawled away from the soldier, only to have the brute slap him for it. He had been put in a corner, as always, and he couldn't go very far. The fiend had gripped the smaller male's jaw tight, holding his dick and pushing it against the sealed mouth, covering it in sticky, bitter precum. ' _C-Come on, bitch... Just this once. Nobody will know, I swear... I know you want it, you f-f-fucking slut... Look, I'll give you m-my ration of the day, i-if you let me fuck your pretty mouth, okay? Come on, open up...'_ The promise of food had Yuuri's resolve faltering. What if... what if he could get a full ration for once... Maybe... maybe this was worth it? He already hated himself for what he was about to do, but he just couldn't take it anymore. He had been about to surrender, to let himself become what they had so often told him he was, when a superior had walked by and seen them. Yuuri wasn't sure how the soldier had been able to walk straight again, with how hard his head hit the stone wall behind him. The orders were clear; no one touches the boy. And as usual, Yuuri didn't get his full ration the next day.

Yuuri was now bawling, afraid he might wake up his master with the sound of his sobs. He really had become trash, hadn't he? Willing to be used as a hole to fill just so he could eat a bit more. Tears fell freely on the pillows and sheets near Yuuri's face. He was so enraged at himself that he almost hadn't been able to hold on, to fight back, or to do anything to prove he was worth more than this. Instead, he just took it, he had been so close to welcoming it that he wasn't sure he could ever look at himself in the mirror and ever feel proud again.

A sound in the other room interrupted his cries. Yuuri clasped a hand on his mouth and listened. They were soft knocks on the door leading to the prince's room, followed by a hesitant voice.

"...Yuuri? Are you awake?"

The boy didn't answer, desperately trying to calm down the sobs, his head now pounding with the effort.

A beat.

"Breakfast is ready, if ever you feel hungry. Please take your time, and don't hesitate to use the bathroom if you want to." He heard muffled footsteps walking away. Yuuri wasn't sure if he had woken up the prince with his weeping, or if he had just already been up. _He_ surely didn't feel like getting up now, but he also didn't want to risk displeasing the man by ignoring him. The boy inhaled deeply a few times, and wiped his eyes. Slowly but surely, the tears stopped falling and his head stopped pounding. He managed to sit up again and looked at the bathrobe on the floor, concerned with not having anything more appropriate to wear. But since he was absolutely not putting the veils back on, this would have to do. The slave shuffled to the side of the mattress and cautiously got up, pain shooting through his ribs at the movement. He gripped a bed post and stayed still, gritting his teeth as he waited for the ache to pass. He realized the pain killers Mila had given him had worn off by now. After a few minutes of breathing and small, tentative movements, he managed to grab the robe on the floor and throw it over his shoulders. With a few curses, he tied the belt and slowly put one foot in front of the other, making his way to the bathroom. He entered the luminous room, which was at least as big as a quarter of the size of his bedchamber. Inside, Yuuri found a large mirror on the cream colored wall on his right, along with a white marble dressing table. Next to him on his left against the inside wall was a toilet and a sink made of the same material, accented with golden handles. In front of him sat a large bathtub, twice as any he'd ever seen, with a large step carved into the ceramic on one side. The whole room was illuminated by a large window covering the entirety of the last wall on the left. Velvet curtains hang on each side, the same deep-blue shade as the bed covers. On the dressing table, the dark-haired boy found a small bottle of green glass, with some more opiate pills inside. Viktor must have put it there the day before, when he came to fill the pitcher. The boy grabbed one and drank some water to swallow it, before looking back at the mirror. His face was a mess; his eyes puffy and red and skin the color of chalk, stretched taut over his prominent cheekbones and jaw line. He may have been feeling better, but he was still far from healed. He ran his fingers through his hair, using the left over gel from yesterday's style to try and slick the black locks back in a somewhat presentable fashion. The fruitless attempt wasn't even close to being successful. If he ever wanted to feel confident enough to knock on that door and get breakfast, a shower would be necessary. He sighed and turned to the exuberant bathtub, and after a bit of pushing and pulling, managed to get some water running at a decent temperature. He inhaled deeply and forced himself to get into the tub, no matter how much it hurt to raise his legs that high. He let himself flop unto the carved step, exasperated with how much this little effort had exhausted him. Considering how weak he was, he only let the water fill up to his calves, not wanting to slip and stupidly drown because of some malaise. Slowly but surely, he managed to wash himself, scrubbing every single part of his body as much as he could. His crisis in bed earlier had made him feel uncomfortable in his own skin, and the purifying feeling of soap on his body was more than welcome. The man even went through the trouble of crouching and dealing with the pain in his ribs to clean his hair from all the gel it was covered with.

After what felt like an eternity, Yuuri finally stepped out of the tube and grabbed a towel to dry himself. He slipped the bathrobe back on, and made his way to the door opposite of where he was. As he stood in front of the carved white wood, Yuuri had to take a few deep breaths to keep his heartbeat under control. Had he really been invited to eat breakfast in the prince's room? Had he just misunderstood it all? What would happen once he stepped out of that door? Was it really safe?

Seconds passed, and turned into minutes. A loud grumble from his stomach reminded him that standing in front of a door was not going to get him food any time soon. Yuuri sighed shakily. Finally, a trembling fist was raised against the wood to knock ever so softly.

"M...M-Master? W-would it be okay if hmm... If I had breakfast, please?"

Was that the right thing to say? Did he sound too demanding? Oh god, did he really screw up this early in the day?

Hurried footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, quickly opened by an elegant, beaming pale face.

"Yuuri, you are awake! Good morning! Of course you can have breakfast with me! Please come in!"

The boy was taken aback by the sudden display of enthusiasm. _Wait_ , did the master just say " _with me_ "? Yuuri wasn't just about to be sent off to the kitchens to grab something, he was actually going to eat _at the_ _prince's table_?

He barely had to time to process what was happening before an excited, slobbering ball of mussed-up brown fur suddenly came out of nowhere and tackled him. Yuuri's brain went into a panic, but his body reacted on pure motor reflex at the familiar feeling, and grabbed the source of the licking by the head. It was just enough to keep it at a safe distance from his own face. As his mind cleared up, he realized his attacker was nothing else than an overly-eager, and apparently very strong, _puppy_. Yuuri stopped wrestling for a while to stare in the big brown eyes, and only found affection and playfulness in them. A smile cracked on his features. Reassured, he slowly got up and starting petting the beast, his insistent tongue tickling him and making him giggle. Behind them, a thoroughly embarrassed Viktor was vainly trying to get the dog back to his feet, until he had to quit and tug him by the collar all the way back in the room, so Yuuri could be free again. The boy was chuckling all the while at the scene, having accepted his fate as this dog's new friend, although he remained slightly confused at his presence as he hadn't noticed him the previous day.

"I am so sorry, please forgive Makkachin, he frequently forgets he's grown up and doesn't weigh ten pounds anymore..." Yuuri shook his head dismissively, still smiling. It had been a while since he received any canine affection, and would never be angry about it. Viktor continued explaining himself as he dragged the puppy in his room and out of sight, his voice muffled by the wall.

"He was sleeping in his room yesterday, thank the gods, I wouldn't have wanted to traumatize you with such a welcome... Makkachin! Come! You'll see him later, I promise, but give him a break for now!" After some more rustling, arguing, and the sound of a door closing, the prince finally reappeared in the doorway, at last inviting him in the room.

Said prince was flustered from the joust with his dog, hair slightly mussed up and breathing uneven. He was barely dressed in a dark green robe, much similar to the one Yuuri wore, the silky fabric of the garment sliding down his shoulders and revealing his chest. Yuuri couldn't help his wandering eyes at the man's natural beauty, unconsciously letting his gaze follow the curves of the muscular body. He seemed hairless, and his snow-white skin stretched graciously around defined pectorals, collarbones, and biceps. Even his neck had a princely look to it, making the man look like a marble statue made of elegance and sensuality. As Viktor moved out of the way to let his guest in, Yuuri shyly looked away, ashamed and worried that his staring had been noticed. As his eyes searched frantically for anything to look at other than the Adonis body beside him, the boy noticed that a large table had been set in the middle of the room. The place was twice as large as Yuuri's own suite, and was decorated with rich cream-colored walls and comforter, as well as dark wood furniture. An impressive poster bed lay on the right, facing towards the main exit on the left. The massive white double doors were delicately inlayed with gold swirls and patterns. Opposite to him, Yuuri noticed an ornate desk covered in neatly folded papers, as well as a library full of ancient-looking tomes. If the slave remembered correctly, that was where the secret door they used the day before was located. Right next to them on their left was another door, which was slightly open to reveal a shimmering bathroom.

Before Yuuri could take in more details, the prince led him to the dining table, and pulled a seat for him. The wooden surface in front of him was covered with colorful, deliciously smelling plates. Some were filled with strange fruits, others with fresh breads, and more still with delicacies like cold meats or exotic nuts. Viktor sat across from him in one of the plump chairs, and started to fill his plate with food as he offered some to the slave. Yuuri kept his eyes low, unable to meet his master's gaze, and accepted anything he was served, uneasiness making him silent. He didn't know this country's manners, and he wasn't exactly sure what he was eating and how to eat it. On top of that, he didn't have a clue if he really deserved to be there, seated in front of a prince, half-dressed and barely combed. It's not that the silver-haired man was any better, which made Yuuri even more nervous with the familiarity that was displayed. After a while, he realized he hadn't touched his meal and was staring blankly at his plate. ' _Oh no, this could be bad, what if he thinks I'm being impolite or don't like the food...'_ He panicked, and hurriedly grabbed the foreing cutlery, but stopped dead in his track at the sight of his plate. _'I... I don't know how to eat any of this! What if I disrespect their manners and offend him? How am I ever going to feed myself if I don't even know what to do? Quick, I need to think of something!'_ His terrified mind didn't even consider looking up at his master for indications. He simply stared at his food insistently, as if looking at it with intent would somehow give it a sense that his panic-striken brain wouldn't even be able to understand anyway. His vision was getting blurry from the anxiety, and the cutlery was now slippery in his sweaty palms. Suddenly, the prince's voice cut through his nerve-wracking thoughts.

"Yuuri, are you well? Is the food alright?"

 _'Oh no.'_ This was exactly what he had feared. The prince thought he wasn't grateful, and he would be scolded for it, and he might not be allowed food again, and-

"I can send servants to get something else at the market, if you want. I'm sure this is not what you are used to, and I truly apologize for that, but maybe we could find something similar to what you like. We could go with them, if that pleases you. I... I could also place a special order for the next importations, or..."

The boy exhaled slowly. The prince was rambling now, but through the flowing words Yuuri somehow found a way to breathe again. He wasn't going to be scolded. He would still be allowed to eat. He was not in danger. The prince was just worried about him, strangely enough. He continued to inhale deeply, once, twice, willing the panic away. The concern the silver-haired man showed and how he was getting out of his way to make his protégé feel comfortable reassured the boy.

Yuuri suddenly realized he had only spoken to the prince directly twice, and only to briefly answer his questions. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to address him or if he even had the right to do so, but he somehow he felt that it was safe for him to speak up. However, he kept his gaze lowered and tried to sound as submissive as he could as he opened his mouth.

"I... I very much appreciate it... _master_ , but it won't be necessary. I just... wouldn't want to disrespect your customs. I would be very grateful if you could... show me, please?"

The older man's face lit up at the timid request, although Yuuri noticed the sadness flashing in his eyes at the title. The prince still seemed to decide not to bring up the subject for now, and suddenly his hands and mouth were moving happily to explain as best as he could and in thorough details how to use every utensils, at what time and with what plate _._ They went like this for a while, Viktor smiling eagerly at his guest with every movement, and the younger boy timidly but curiously picking at every dish in his plate as he felt his body regain some strength. On top of that, the peculiar food wasn't actually so bad.

Silence fell upon them as they ate, and several minutes passed before the man spoke again.

"Did you get a good night of sleep, Yuuri?"

The boy answered truthfully with the affirmative, although the question brought back memories of his difficult morning, and the barely-there smile was uneasy. Viktor noticed, and a slight frown creased his brows.

"Was the medication Mila gave you enough? She could give you something to help you sleep if you would like, you know..."

The dark-haired man shook his head.

"Oh no, it's fine, thank you very much master..." Viktor's frown only grew at that.

"Please, Yuuri, I beg you, call me Viktor." Yuuri's hand carrying his fork stopped in middair. He raised his head in shock, looking at his master in the eyes for the first time that day. He... _begged him?_

"Please, it's just... You are no slave here, remember? It just feels... wrong. I would really appreciate it if you could call me by my name." It was the prince's turn to lower his gaze, sadness and regret apparent on his face. The man's distress went straight to Yuuri's heart. If calling him by his name was what he wanted, the boy was ready to risk sounding disrespectful to make him feel better.

"I-I can try... _Viktor."_ The prince's shoulders dropped in relief, his features softening. He truly looked grateful.

"Thank you, Yuuri."

Yuuri smiled soflty, and finally took his almost-forgotten bite. The boy felt confidence and warmth fill his chest as the tension between them dissipated. What pushed him to keep on going, he would never know. Maybe it was the desire to pursue small talk, or to enjoy feeling quite... normal. He could only hope it wouldn't be perceived the wrong way.

"Mila is very good at what she does. She... She seems like a very precious friend."

Yuuri saw his host's face light up at the words, deep fondness softening his gaze.

"Oh, she really is. Even though she presents herself as my sister, she's almost like a mother to me." Viktor hesitated for half a second, and then went on. "Mine passed away when I was really young, just before my father died in battle. I was mostly raised by Lilia, the regent at the time, and Yakov the general-in-chief, who you've met. Even though they've done a very good job and I love them very much, Mila gave me warmth and affection I would have never had otherwise. I couldn't imagine life without her being around to scold me or teach me what she does."

Yuuri eyes went wide at the narrative. He struggled to swallow his mouthful around a tight throat, wondering what he could answer to that. He really hadn't expected such a heartfelt confession in response to his seemingly harmless question.

"Oh... I'm... I'm sorry for your parents, Mas-..." Yuuri had to make a conscious effort to let the name out. "...Viktor." The man beamed, apparently proud of his protégé and at peace with the subject, even though a hint of sadness darkened his crystal-blue eyes.

"Oh, you don't have to be Yuuri, that was a long time ago... I barely knew them at all anyway, and I have been taken good care of afterwards." The boy lowered his head in respect, nodding uncomfortably. He had dropped his utensils, the idea of eating now far from his mind. Despite all his fears and worries, Yuuri couldn't find it in him not to feel sorry for the man. Being an orphan, and so young at that, wasn't something anyone deserved.

After Viktor had shared so much of his life in a few words with him, Yuuri felt he owed him the same. He might be misreading the level of comfort the prince wanted to establish, but he wasn't sure he would regret speaking up either.

"My... My parents are very kind too. They both worked as cooks in the palace's kitchens, and sometimes helped out the attendants when the king had guests. I... I also have a sister, and we were both learning from our parents how to manage the kitchens. "

The prince gave the boy an odd look at that. It seemed he had a question he was burning to ask, but was still debating if he actually could. Yuuri chewed on his lip in response, head still bowed towards his plate. Maybe he had said too much, or had misunderstood and wasn't welcome to share his boring little story. Perhaps what the prince wanted was simply a confidant, someone to listen to him, not to chat with.

"Yuuri... Do you know what happened to them?"

The question caught him off guard. He lifted his eyes in surprise, catching a glimpse of uncertain, worried blue eyes. The black-haired man hadn't expected the prince to actually care about his family's fate, or anything that had to do with his past really. He barely managed to stutter an answer.

"W-well... They should be safe now. The... the guards had managed to evacuate most of the palace before your army came in. I just... wasn't with them at that time. The word of the invasion... never got to me." Memories flashed in front of his deep brown eyes. He couldn't help the moisture suddenly filling them, blurring his vision. He definitely wasn't going to be able to eat anymore. His heart felt crushed by the weight of his loss, the longing and grief filling him with despair. It felt as if until now, he hadn't fully realized how much of his life was never going to be the same. It felt as if maybe, somehow, if he didn't think about it, it wouldn't be true.

Where he actually was on that day, he could never tell his master.


	6. Chapter 6: Explore

CHAPTER 7: Explore

Breakfast had brutally ended on quite the awkward note, with Viktor apologizing profusely when he saw Yuuri quietly tearing up, eyes wide. The prince had been biting his lip, nibbling at it with worry, eyes searching here and there for anything that could make his protégé feel better. Somehow, the slave noticed and found the gesture endearing, even though the situation was anything but. His mind swirled around dark thoughts of loneliness and grief, trying to force himself and let go of what his life used to be. He heard his own words echoing in his mind. _I just... wasn't with them at that time._

Where he was, on that day... How ironic that what brought him joy the most in his life had also been his doom. His heart clenched, realizing just now how hoarse his voice was. He hadn't taken much attention to it, but now that he had pronounced more than a few words in a row he realized how broken and tired he sounded, each syllable full of gravel. He kept his head low, eyes avoiding the prince's.

The silver-haired man abruptly stood up and took a deep breath, making the boy in front of him jump.

"I... I have something for you. I know it will never make up for every horrible thing that has happened to you, but if it can make it any better... I would like you to have it."

The prince then walked around the table, and offered his hand to the slave. At this point, the emotional rollercoaster of the morning had exhausted Yuuri so much that he didn't even care enough to search for hidden meaning or threats. He simply took the hand, and gladly put his weight on it to carefully stand up. Even though the painkillers were in effect now, he still didn't feel strong enough to walk with ease. It was as if all the fatigue from the previous weeks has suddenly resurfaced and drained him from the little energy he had left. He felt as defenseless as a newborn, and was so frustrated that he did. Slowly but surely, Viktor guided him towards the suite's bathroom. What the boy hadn't realized was that the exuberant washroom actually led to two other rooms; on the left, he could hear Makkachin scratching on the closed door of apparently his own little chamber, and on the right was a splendid, luxurious walk-in. Compared to the simplistically beige bedroom, the walls there were painted in warm reds and covered at the top and bottom with wooden swirls the color of gold. On every side were horizontal metal poles, on which hung dozens of the richest costumes and fabrics, making the room look like an explosion of color. However, what caught Yuuri's attention the most was a strange-looking chair occupying the middle of the room. Apparently, a plump armchair had been put on and attached to a wooden platform, which was equipped with four small metal wheels. The purpose of the chair wasn't quite clear, and neither was Yuuri's presence beside the prince in his own wardrobe, but the slave was getting tired of questioning everything that was happening to him. The dark-haired man simply shot a confused look to his master, who let go of his hand to face him.

"I'm so sorry it isn't as nice as it could be, but I asked of the builders to have it done by this morning... It's just, I know you need to rest and take it easy, but I wouldn't want to confine you to your bedroom. I want you to feel comfortable here, and welcomed, so I thought of a little something so you could move around without exhausting yourself. Please... have a seat?"

Viktor reached out to take Yuuri's hand again and led him to the chair. He helped him climb on the platform, slender fingers supporting his back until the man was seated. The slave was too astonished by Viktor's gift to notice the nervous twitch in his master's hands. The boy laid his arms on the padded armrests, the soft red velvet gentle under his skin, the whole chair feeling just enough to be perfectly comfortable. Yuuri relaxed in his seat, the sore muscles of his body grateful for the respite. The prince moved out of his sight and grabbed two handles that had also been added to the back of the chair, and started pushing the improvised vehicle. It was somewhat heavy, but the silver-haired man seemed to have no trouble strolling his guest around the room. He came to a stop a few steps further in front of one of the racks, and rummaged through the gorgeous outfits before he picked one.

"Ah! This one should do. Do you like it, Yuuri?"

He turned towards the smaller man and smiled widely, almost shoving the clothing in his face. On the hanger was a midnight blue two-piece suit, the valuable cotton slightly shining in the daylight. A thin layer of black mesh decorated the vest, along with several blue feather-like pieces covering the right shoulder. The clothing was somewhat extravagant, but still elegant and of good taste. In any case, it had to be expensive, that much was sure.

Not knowing what he was supposed to say, Yuuri simply stated the obvious.

"It's... very beautiful." Viktor's smile broadened at the words, and excitement filled his eyes.

"You think so? Oh, I'm glad! Please, go put it on!" Astonishment filled the slave's eyes.

"You... you want me to put it on?"

"Yes! Yuuri, you can't wear a bathrobe all the time... You're going to need some clothes, and since we're approximately the same height, I thought my clothes could fit you. Though this suit is from when I was younger, so it should be closer to your size..."

The smaller male was silent for a few moments, gathering his thoughts.

"V-Viktor... This is very nice from you, and I greatly appreciate, but... These are clothes for a prince. I... I can't accept this. I don't mind finding my own clothes at the market, not at all, or I could borrow some of the servant's if that's less troublesome, oh, I could sew them myself if necessary..."

The prince's face fell.

"Yuuri, please. You do not need any more worries than the ones you have at the moment. Let me take care of the food, the clothes, anything to make you feel better so you can focus on healing. Take it, please."

Yuuri lowered his eyes. There wasn't much he could say to that, and refusing any further would just be rude. He did not have the luxury to be impolite in the slightest with this host.

"Yes Mas-... Viktor. Thank you for the gift."

Viktor frowned. This wasn't what he meant. He hadn't wanted the captive to drop his gaze, to take his words for orders. Guilt surged up in the man. He hadn't even been able to make his protégé feel remotely comfortable enough to simply accept a gift, without fear of retribution. Instead, Yuuri had submitted to him. Given up on his free will. All because Viktor wasn't trying hard enough... or maybe too hard. Viktor bit his lower lip, mind swirling as he searched for the right words.

"It's... it's okay if you don't want to wear it. You can take another piece, any one you like. Ah..." He didn't feel like saying what he was about to say. He wanted the boy to be well-dressed, and pampered, and all cared for. But this wasn't his decision to make. "You can take some clothes from the servants too, if you would be more comfortable doing that."

Yuuri's eyes shot up, going a little wide as he watched the man in front of him. That last suggestion obviously made the prince uncomfortable, but he was fighting hard not to let it show and to simply smile softly at his guest. A flash a regret went through Yuuri, feeling bad for the man who was trying so hard to make him feel welcome, and yet who kept hitting a wall of fear and refusal. The slave fidgeted with his hands, mind and feelings battling each other. He looked again at the shining suit Viktor now timidly held. It wasn't that he didn't like it, it just seemed a little... extravagant. He wasn't sure he would feel very comfortable wearing it. However, if it could reassure the other that he wasn't doing anything wrong, he could surely put up with it for a little while.

 _Why would I want to make him happy? Sooner or later, he will turn his back on you and hurt you._ Yuuri looked straight in the prince's eyes.

"It's okay, I will wear it. Thank you."

 _Because since the moment you saw him, this man has tried to take care of you. You do not deserve his attention, and he certainly does not deserve your attitude._

Viktor hesitated. "Are you sure?"

 _What attitude? You're just afraid, and after all you've been through, that's very normal, don't you think?_ The younger man tried to sound as convinced as he felt... which he didn't.

"Y-yes. It's very pretty. I like it."

 _In any case, I don't think I could be dressed in a servant's clothes and be with the prince without causing even more suspicion than if I just put on the damned suit._

Viktor didn't seem to believe him entirely, but he was reassured enough to still hand out the clothes to his protégé.

"Okay. I'll let you get dress, please call me if you need any help."

 _Well, I guess I can't go back now._

Yuuri nodded, and waited for the silver-haired man to leave the room before he got up. He then ever so slowly slid the pieces on, one by one. It felt like it took him forever, body protesting at the slightest movement. When he was finally done, he turned to a wall where a full-length mirror stood proud, and looked at himself. Yuuri had never been so well dressed for such a simple day, the clothes hugging his curves perfectly and enhancing everything that needed to be. But at the same time, he had never felt so much like a stranger. At a first glance, the man he saw looked beautiful. But if he watched closer, he could see that his limbs were too thin, floating in a suit he wouldn't usually have been able to wear. His face was bruised and unnaturally pale, and his hair longer than it had ever been. It was as if he was wearing someone else's skin, both his body and attire completely out of place as to who he was. Sooner or later the mask would break and fall. He didn't even know if what was underneath would ever be the same.

Reluctantly, he teared his eyes away from the foreigner in the polished glass and went back to his chair, telling Viktor he was done. The prince came back in with a smile that turned into a gasp as he saw the black-haired man in his seat.

"Yuuri! This... You... You're so beautiful!" The man just blurted out compliments, eyes shining with barely restrained admiration. His guest blushed and looked away, expression still sad. The prince had only paid attention to the first glance, apparently. He knew what he really looked like; half a man, broken and sick, mockingly dressed in stolen clothes. But the flattering compliments wouldn't stop flowing out of his host's mouth, so he muttered an embarrassed thank you.

"Well, now that you are dressed up and comfortable, I guess it's time to go explore!"

The prince spoke with a wide smile, almost jumping in excitement. He waited for the boy to nod in assent, and reached for the handles at the back of the chair to push Yuuri out of the room. As soon as they stepped in the hallway, the younger man marveled at how luminous the palace was. The whole place had been built in a similar fashion as the audience room, with light marble floors, cream-colored walls and large windows every few steps. The atmosphere was peaceful and welcoming, and summery rays of sun lit up their way. They crossed a few people in the corridors, all smiling and bowing at the prince. They also inevitably shot curious and inquisitive glances at Yuuri, but fortunately none of them either had the social rank nor the guts to ask about him.

They went first to Mila's office, which wasn't too far, so she could replace the bandages Yuuri had disposed of to bathe earlier. She also did a second check-up of his bruises, but everything seemed to be fine and slowly healing, the ice from the previous day having reduced considerably any swelling. Then, she decided to fully assess Yuuri's overall health, in case she had missed anything in her previous examinations. Everything was going very smoothly, the man letting her listen to his lungs, check his ears, his mouth, and so on. Well, that was until she lifted a weird-looking pair of glasses to his face. He froze for an instant, eyes lost in the distance, frowning. He looked at Mila, then at the object, then at Mila again, and hesitated before he finally leaned in towards the instrument. The doctor raised a brow in question, but didn't say anything and simply proceeded to the eye exam. After a few answers from the man, though, his reaction suddenly made much more sense.

"Yuuri… You used to wear glasses, didn't you?" She spoke with caution, watching his patient's reactions, as well as Viktor's from the corner of her eyes.

The dark-haired man raised his gaze and nodded, lips stretched thinly on a smile devoid of any joy.

"They were broken the night I was taken away."

Understanding flashed in Mila's gaze. She gave a small nod, and decided to simply go on with her assessment without pressing the matter any further. Yuuri didn't need anymore reminders of what he had been through. They were no more incidents for the rest of the check-up. She simply mentioned that she would arrange for new pair of glasses with the right prescription to be made by the end of the week, and that the rest of his body was all in order, thankfully. She bid them good day, but as soon as Viktor opened his mouth and asked Yuuri if he was ready to keep going, she raised an unimpressed brow at the prince.

"Viktor. Ice, painkillers, and rest. That were my only indications. Why do I feel like this young man isn't about to go back to his bed?"

The silver-haired man looked just as guilty as he was, hair scratching the back of his head nervously as he tried to explain himself. However, with quite the argument about the chair idea, Yuuri's repeated consent, and a few pleading looks from the prince, she agreed with a sigh to let them roam around a little. Yuuri was glad; even though he was tired, he didn't feel like staying in bed all day, motionless and alone with his thoughts. Adding to that, his surroundings were absolutely beautiful, and he was curious to see more of them. It was also hard to say no with the way his host was like a child on his birthday, endearingly more than eager to show his guest around.

Viktor was indeed buzzing with barely contained energy as they continued their little exploration. Every now and then, he would stop in front of a painting or a statue and explain in thorough, funny, and very personalized details what this or that piece was about. By the time they exited the wing they were in, Yuuri already felt like he knew more about his host's country than he would have ever learned in any museum. That is, if half the stories Viktor told somewhat held any truth.

They went on and crossed a few majestic main halls, officials and servants politely moving aside to let them through. The walls there were nicely covered with colorful paintings, alongside columns and fountains delicately adorned with golden swirls. There were even skylights added here and there. The palace was truly splendid, but somehow it barely compared to where the host led them next, escaping the activity of one last hall and moving further south. They navigated through some more corridors and entered a wide, open courtyard. The space was filled with vegetation, sand and dirt carefully brushed out of the grey stone path. Vines climbed on the pale walls, and the midday sun shone brightly on the crisp green leaves. Colorful flowers filled every inch between the countless trees, giving the impression that the recreated wood floated in a ocean of pink, red, purple, blue and white petals shivering under the breeze. Birds and bees filled the air with their joyful whistles, accompanied by the occasional chopping sound of a gardener at work. The atmosphere felt nothing short of ethereal. Yuuri inhaled slow and deep. It all felt so fresh, the sun and the air, filled with sweet and earthly smells. Somehow, in the strangeness of it all, this place reminded him of home.

Maybe it was because of the distant smell of the sea perfuming the wind, or the sounds of birds joyfully chirping around them. Maybe it was just the sense of utter peace that instantly washed over him. When he thought of how grey his world had been for the past week...He felt his heart clench with emotion at the sight of this vividly colored garden, so bright and alive. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or sad, tired or rested. There was something surreal about just... being there. Being there, and still breathing.

Yuuri wasn't even conscious of the blissful expression he wore, eyes closed, face tilted towards the sun, and smiling softly. The prince noticed though, leaning in slightly to check on his as-always silent protégé. The man couldn't help the surge of affection warming his chest at the sight. The slave was so beautiful when he let go of his worries, young and innocent features relaxed with delight, perfect black lashes falling heavy on deep brown eyes filled with emotions. Viktor sighed gently. He wanted to see that expression on Yuuri as often as he could. He truly did.

They walked slowly through the garden in complete silence, both alone with their emotions, and the tranquil wisdom emanating from the courtyard. It took a while for Viktor to speak again, voice low as if not to disturbed the little piece of paradise they were in.

"This place is one of my favorites. I thought you might like it." Yuuri smiled, but didn't answer. He didn't need to.

They kept their lazy pace for as long as possible, savouring the moment until the last drop. When they finally reached the other side, Yuuri thought his host would head back to his quarters, ending the tour there. Instead, he took another turn and kept going.

"Are you too tired Yuuri? There is one last place I would like to show you..."

The smaller man assured him he was fine, feeling invigorated by their walk in the garden. A few hallways later, they crossed a large staircase going down. The prince offered Yuuri his hand to help him stand, and simply lifted the chair and carried it down the flight of stairs as if it weighed nothing. He even offered to carry his guest back to his seat, which Yuuri politely refused, heat blossoming on his cheeks. Yes, it did hurt to walk on his own, but it wasn't as bad as to render him invalid. He certainly wasn't about to make a prince carry him around like a damsel in distress. The few shreds of dignity and pride he still had, he would cling go them with all his might.

As they started again on their little promenade, Yuuri realized they were now at ground level. He could see the shining grass and dirt and stone paths through the tall windows. The corridors were smaller on that floor, but nonetheless majestic, with arches running on the ceiling and connecting columns on either sides of the walls. They got lost on the way a few times, Viktor asking people they saw for directions in his mother tongue. Apparently, the prince didn't come in this section of the palace very often.

After a while, they felt the temperature getting warmer, delicious smells filling the air and their nostrils. Suddenly, it was as if Viktor knew exactly where he was going, and Yuuri just sat there, dumbstruck. Smells and sound assaulted his senses, images of another palace, another time, flashing through his mind. He could hear his parents' and sister's voices through fog, muted in what was now only a memory. _The... kitchens?_ The prince had brought him to the kitchens?

They turned left and went through massive revolving doors, before stepping into a large room filled with ovens, counters, food, and people running around and shouting. An open door at the back led outside, where countless boxes of fruits and vegetables were piled up near a dirt path. An opening on the right revealed a few other rooms arranged in the same fashion, all of them filled with the undying energy of cooks and kitchen kids. As soon as they entered, a bearded man with spiky brown hair wearing a white apron approached them with a large smile.

"My Prince! Welcome! What gives us the pleasure of having you here today? Would you need anything for your lunch?"

"Emil! Long time no see!" Viktor answered in the common tongue, subtly indicating to the cook that they had a guest. "And no, thank you. It's just that I have a friend here who is a cook, and I thought I'd show him around our kitchens."

The smaller male frowned slightly in surprise. He wasn't a cook, and more certainly not a "friend". What was Viktor saying?

Emil dropped his gaze to smile at Yuuri, intrigued. His blue eyes looked at him in a inquisitive way, confusion and surprise flashing on his face. The foreigner looked away, uncomfortable at such a direct stare even though it wasn't malicious.

"Ah, a friend, I see... Welcome, my lord...?"

The poor boy was completely frozen. Why was this guy calling him lord? Didn't he know he was a slave? Panicked, he searched for Viktor's gaze at his side. The silver-haired man simply nodded, his thin lips stretched on an encouraging smile. Yuuri turned back towards Emil, stuttering out his answer around a dry throat.

"It-it's Katsuki, sir. Katsuki Yuuri." The bearded man smiled wider, eyes still doubtful but apparently deciding not to push it.

"Well, it is a pleasure to have you here, Lord Katsuki. I must say, we were not prepared for the visit of such a guest." Emil shot a quick glance at Viktor, raising a brow in question. Who exactly was this young foreigner? Apart from the people of the palace, Viktor never talked of having any other friends, and the young man in the chair was clearly a stranger if they had to speak the common language around him. Adding to that, if the cook wasn't mistaken, the costume the boy seemed to barely fill was one of Viktor's. Why would the prince need to lend his clothes to a guest, or a _friend_ as he had said?

His Highness seemed completely unfazed by the other man's confusion, simply grinning even more.

"Oh no need for preparation, we were just passing by... Would it be okay if we did a little tour though? We'll try not to get in your way, but I would like to show Yuuri around."

Emil bowed, nodding. So they were on a first name basis… At least on the prince's part. Intriguing.

"Absolutely, Your Highness, it would be our pleasure to have your visit! Please allow me a few minutes to advise the others..."

Viktor was about to answer when a butler came bursting through the door, heading straight towards them. His hair was pitch black and weirdly styled so that they were flat on top of his head and towered above his face in a straight line. His eyes and skin were as pale as the prince's. The man had such an angry look on his face that Yuuri instantly wished he could vanish, anything to escape the threat heavy in the air. Viktor noticed him tense, and stood a little closer, laying a protective hand on the back of the chair. He didn't want to touch the slave without his consent, but he still wanted him to feel protected.

"YOUR HIGHNESS! Where on earth have you been? I spent hours searching for you!" The newcomer was shouting in earnest, face growing redder by the second. The prince, on the other hand, had a blank look on his face, looking completely dumfounded.

"Searching? For me? Why?"

That seemed to make the other explode even more, as he threw his hands in the air and grabbed his head.

"My prince! I can't believe you forgot again! Won't you ever get used to the fact that you have public audiences _every midweek day_? What do I have to do so you don't forget?"

The man seemed about to burst into tears, despair making him tug viciously at his strands. Yuuri looked around and realized with great surprise that everybody was either grinning or laughing behind their palm. Why were they all so relax in the face of this poor man's breakdown?

Suddenly, Viktor seemed to come back to life.

"OH! The audience! It's today..? I forgot... How late am I?"

"AN HOUR LATE!" screamed the other, before bursting into crazed sobs. However, nobody seemed impressed by the tantrum, and simply went back to their occupations now that they knew what the commotion was about. The prince's mouth opened on a small "o", and he just shrugged.

"But Georgi, do I really have to go now that it's already been an hour? Haven't they all gone back to their home?"

The butler didn't even answer, simply looking through the silver-haired man like he wasn't even seeing him. That's when Emil stepped in, laying a hand on the prince's shoulder.

"Your Highness, please do Georgi a favor... And you know you can't just let the people leave empty-handed. You owe it to them, you know that."

Viktor sighed, although perking up a bit at the thought of meeting with his citizens. The prince seemed quite affectionate of his people. But when his icy blue eyes flickered to Yuuri, a sharp pang of guilt flashed in his gaze. He couldn't just leave the boy there... But he wasn't sure it was safe to bring him to the audience either.

The slave was looking back at him with a confused, worried expression. Why was this crying man losing his mind? Why was he even screaming at _the prince_? Why was Emil touching His Highness with so much familiarity? _What was going on_?

"Yuuri. Hum, you see, every week I hold these public audiences, where the people can address their concerns to me directly and settle their quarrels. I just completely forgot that it was today... I'm sorry to cut short to our little tour, but you can stay in the kitchens for a while if you want. Or you can go back to your room, it's as you wish."

The slave froze. What? The prince was leaving him behind? That couldn't be good.He knew he wasn't welcomed here. Emil had made that clear with the suspicion he showed towards him. Without the prince to shield him, what would happen? He couldn't walk, he was in a _wheelchair_ , how was he supposed to defend himself if things went bad! He tried to take deep breathes, eyes silently imploring His Highness not to leave him behind.

Viktor quickly sensed his protégé's distress. He got on his knees in front of the slave, leaning in close to whisper in his ear.

"Yuuri, listen to me, please. I just think it would be safer for you if you didn't appear in front of so many people too soon, especially from outside the palace. Do you understand? Let them get accustomed to you first. Give yourself some time to heal. I... I don't want you to feel overwhelmed. If you come, people will stare, people will whisper. They'll make assumptions before they even know you, and that wouldn't be fair. I just want to keep you safe. »

Yuuri looked away, staring at the ground, breath still short. He understood what Viktor meant, and why he was right, but that didn't make him feel any less helpless... or restrained. He had to remain hidden after all, inside, confined. Even if it was for his own good, it hurt not to have to freedom to come and go as he wished. It didn't help that he wasn't sure protection was really what he would get from staying apart from Viktor. Images of the past few weeks invaded his mind, phantom hands and feet itching on his skin. He subconsciously draped an arm over his stomach, fingers ghosting above sensitive bruises.

The prince noticed the gesture, and gently took the boy's hand and moved it away, laying it lightly above his frail thigh instead. Viktor's fingers felt warm above his own.

"Yuuri, look at me. They're not going to hurt you. They know you're with me. They'll never risk laying a finger on you. It may not appear this way, but the people here respect me. They respect me, and they respect what I hold dear. Even if it seems a little strange to them at first."

The prince looked away for an instant, smiling a bit, lost in some memory. Then, an idea popped in his mind and he turned back to the boy in front of him.

"Yuuri, do you see the man over there? The one with the tanned skin and the big eyebrows?"

The slave looked at the man he was describing, a young adult with dark hair and a gentle smile currently very keen on decorating extravagant cakes. The prince continued speaking as Yuuri watched the confectioner delicately paint some sugar flowers.

"His name is Leo. He is one of the nicest person I've ever met, and he loves sharing his passion with people. He can show you around the kitchens, if you decide to stay here. He is the best guide you could ever hope for. And he will take care of you as you need, I'm sure of that. "

The prince leaned in a bit closer.

"And remember, you are Lord Katuski to them. They cannot touch a lord without repercussions, you know that? You don't owe them anything. You don't have to. You trusted me with Mila, Yuuri. Can you trust me with Leo?"

The silver-haired man shifted his weight back to his heels, locking gazes with Yuuri.

"I won't be gone for long. I promise."

Somehow, even though he wasn't too sure he would ever be able to pull off that lord thing, or got through the next few hours without a panic, those gorgeous blue eyes managed to ground Yuuri in a matter of seconds. The longer he stared into the two topaz drops, the more he found he could breathe and think. _It's okay, you're gonna be fine. Not everyone here wants to hurt you, you've seen that with Mila. In any case, it will only be for a few hours._

The boy nodded weakly at the prince. He still didn't feel comfortable being left alone surrounded by all these strangers, but Viktor hadn't given him a reason not to trust his judgment up until now. His argument about the audience made sense, and this Leo boy seemed harmless. After all, he couldn't display any more weakness in front of the silver-haired man. Even if he didn't like it, he would have to suck it up. Anyhow, it felt a lot safer to stay here in the kitchens, surrounded by people who _might_ step up if he was threatened, then having someone push him back to his room, alone, with even less eyes to see. Yuuri cleared his throat a bit, voice still sore and small.

"I'll be fine. I'll stay here, if that's okay. Please go now, I do not want to make you any more late."

Viktor looked at him one last time, trying to read past those wide brown eyes and into his protégé's thoughts. Would he really be okay? In any case, he didn't have much of a choice. After long seconds, the prince finally sighed discreetly and got up, turning to Leo and quickly explaining the situation to the intrigued confectioner, who happily dropped his pastries to trot over to Yuuri. Then, Viktor went to Georgi, patting him on the shoulders and managing to calm the desperate tears quickly enough.

He left right behind his butler, not noticing the room full of gaping mouths he left behind. No one in there had ever, _ever_ seen their prince being as concerned for someone as he had just been for the foreign lord.


	7. Chapter 7: Blind

CHAPITRE 8: Blind

Leo turned out to be just as sweet as Viktor had described him. He didn't seem to mind making most of the conversation, as he took Yuuri from one station to another, presenting him to the people and explaining their roles. He chatted easily about life in the kitchens, what they were cooking for lunch and supper, how hectic it got when the prince organized a feast... He asked a few questions too, curious to know who was the man the prince was so interested in. However, when his guest suddenly fell silent when he asked where he came from, Leo stopped trying. He wasn't sure how the little man had ended up in their palace, especially in such a weakened state, but he obviously was not ready to talk about it. Or maybe he had been told not to.

To Leo, it was clear Yuuri was not and had never been a lord. A lord did not know how kitchens worked and most certainly did not use them. A lord did not travel without his own clothes and toiletry. A lord did not appear so beaten up and malnourished. And above all, a lord did not keep his eyes on the floor, hesitant to look up, and even more to speak up. The confectioner could not figure out why the prince would try to pull such a stunt, but that was not his to question, and he did not want to make his guest anymore uncomfortable. He simply went on with their conversation, and explained how he had moved from a remote village to Viktor's palace so he could perfect his skills, and ended up becoming chief confectioner. At the man's gentle babbling, Yuuri slowly managed to relax. They ended up discussing how they both made their favorite desserts and pastries, while eating pieces of freshly-made meat pie his guide had grabbed for them. Time flew much quicker than Yuuri had expected, and he was even discreetly smiling at Leo's enthusiasm when it came to cake decoration. The man was more creative than any chef the former cook had encountered, and the heavens knew he had met some extravagant people desperately trying to get the king's attention during his time in his parent's kitchens.

About three hours had passed when the prince reappeared, nervous eyes searching the crowd of cooks and servants. Even from afar, Viktor seemed tense, but the feeling melted away when his gaze settled on a joyfully gesticulating Leo and timidly grinning Yuuri. The prince made his way to them, avoiding pots and kitchen kids along the way. The confectioner turned to greet him, surprised to see him back so early. Viktor ran a hand in his hair guiltily.

« Ah, well, since I was so late, most of them had already left, and I was lucky enough not to have a major case today, so... »

Leo rolled his eyes at the carelessness of his prince, but let it slide with a sigh and went on to ask how the audience had been. They talked for a while, Viktor quickly assessing his protégé's state from the corner of his eye. Yuuri miraculously seemed well and somehow at ease, but the prince caught a few ill-hidden yawns betraying his fatigue. He said a few last things to Leo and managed to cut short to the conversation, thanked him for his time and kindness, and led Yuuri back to the royal suites. As soon as they stepped into his room, the man felt exhaustion wash over him. Viktor told him he would come back for him went supper was ready. Yuuri half-heartedly nodded, thanked him, and collapsed on the bed as soon as the door clicked.

The days passed, and they quickly adopted their little routine. Viktor would wake him up with a knock on his door, and Yuuri would briefly debate whether he would sleep in or get up to carefully bathe, before he always choose the latter; he did not want to appear dirty to his royal host, and always wanted to at least clean his wounds. Then, they would eat breakfast together, Yuuri would choose his outfit for the day from the prince's extensive wardrobe, and they would visit Mila so she could keep an eye on him and change his bandages. Then they would go on with their exploration of the castle. After a week, the slave had seen most of the palace. The courtyard and the kitchens, of course, but also two libraries, an empty audience room, the armory, a ballroom, the main reception hall, a few smaller lounges, the gardens, as well as the servants' wing, right above the kitchens. That last visit had caused a ruckus, the domestics being startled by Yuuri's presence, even more along with his weird-looking chair. Apparently, the prince did go and greet them once in a while, but rarely brought a guest with him, AND much less a lord. Yuuri still wasn't sure how he felt about that whole pretending-to-be-nobility thing, but Viktor had never brought it up again and Yuuri didn't dare ask a question he wasn't asked to formulate. Of course, they were still some places that Yuuri hadn't set foot in; the castle's underground cells, for obvious reasons, although Viktor assured him they were mostly empty, the royal farms and stables since the ground was too muddy for his wheelchair, the ministers' wing the prince carefully kept him away from... They also never turned left when they walked out of their rooms. Yuuri assumed that since they were almost at the extremity of the building, there simply was nothing to see on the other side.

The morning of the seventh day came, just as Yuuri was beginning to lose count of the days. They were eating their breakfast together as usual, clad in their respective bathrobes and messy morning hair, when a lady butler came knocking. She bowed to both men, and sternly reported to the prince that he had been summoned to a council meeting. They froze for an instant, words hanging heavy in the air. A council. A war council. Viktor looked at his protégé, mouth in a thin line. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken thoughts.

Yuuri felt guilty for his master's suddenly tense shoulders and was greatly uncomfortable with the growing silence, so he decided to take it upon himself to speak up first. He put on his best lord voice, and sat a little straighter, and turned towards the lady. A pale smile stretched his lips, the gesture still feeling foreign to his features.

"Thank you for the information." He shot a quick, wary glance in Viktor's direction. "I... I suppose His Highness will join you in a moment."

Viktor caught on Yuuri's attempt at dismissing the lady, and released some of the tension rooting his body in place.

"Yes, thank you Sara. Though I know the way, you do not need to escort me. You can go back to your duties."

Yuuri let go of the breath he was subconsciously holding as she left with a stiff bow. Although he was slowly feeling more confident to speak for himself, he was still very anxious to do so. The fear of saying the wrong thing, to the wrong person, at the wrong moment, still kept his lips shut most of the time. On the other side of the table, a flicker of pride wavered in the otherwise strained blue gaze.

Viktor took a last piece of his breakfast, and slowly got up, movements hesitant.

"... Do you want me to bring you to Mila before I go? Or Leo?"

Yuuri shook his head softly, appreciating the prince's effort at not leaving him alone.

"No thank you, I'll be fine... I think I'll continue reading the book we borrowed yesterday."

The prince forced a smile at his protégé's answer. He didn't think he would ever stop being surprised by how selfless the man was. _Of course, Viktor, go ahead and attend this war council, while I wait here, alone and waiting to know if my country has ceased to exist or not. I'll be fine Viktor, you can leave me in the kitchens surrounded by strangers on my first day here, because you weren't clever enough to remember you had an audience that morning. Will I eat lunch alone on my second day with the door locked, just in case, because you have to go help out the victims of a major bakery fire in the nearest village? Why, yes, even if I don't even know when you'll be back and I'll end up staying trapped between the four walls of my room for the whole day. Am I reading books in the common language, which I do not fully master, because there is none in my native language? Absolutely, and thank you for the gift of a simple past time, my prince, I am grateful._

The man was too kind for his own good, even with the ones who held him captive. Viktor wasn't sure what incredible deed he had done to deserve such a precious person stumbling into his life. The only thing he knew was that he would take care, and protect, and try to give back a thousand fold the joy Yuuri gave him when he smiled, laughed, made jokes, and told him a fraction of what he really thought in that colorful, forgiving mind of his.

But for now, he had to attend this council meeting, and bring back what could be dreadful news to the younger man. He wiped his hand on the embroidered napkin, gathering his courage to move from his spot as he did so.

"Alright. Take your time eating, Yuuri, the servants won't be there to clean before another hour anyway. I'll try not to be gone for too long... Yuuri?"

The slave raised his eyes at the uncertainty laced in the prince's voice.

"I'll tell you if there's any news from your hometown. If you want me to. "

Yuuri thought about it for an instant, before nodding in assent. If there was anything to know, he preferred learning it now than much later, too late perhaps. No matter what the news were.

Viktor nodded back, before vanishing in the bathroom to get ready. Fortunately, Yuuri didn't mind much being left alone; he used to often enjoy being on his own. Those were the rare moments he was able to let his mind free, creating and thinking at will. Now, it allowed him to let his guard down somewhat. He was getting used to being around Viktor, Mila, and slowly but surely Leo as well, but any other human presence had him twitchy and nervous. He still wasn't sure who could really be trusted and who couldn't, or when this peaceful, restful dream would shatter and he would be back to living in basements, held and fed like some toy to poke and prod at will.

Yuuri continued nibbling at his breakfast, cautiously eating some local nuts. Although he ate quite well the first few days, he now felt full after a few bites. For the sake of his host and sometimes Leo, he would try to eat half of his plate, but would never go over. When Mila had asked about his small appetite, he hadn't been able to explain why his stomach felt suddenly so tight. After three nights of blissful sleep out of pure exhaustion, his eyes had stopped closing as well. Or when they did, it was never for long. They were always wrenched open by a cold sweat, feelings and images too real to simply be dreams. That, he hadn't told Mila. Nor Viktor. But soon enough, the darkening circles beneath his eyes and persistently pale skin would do it for him.

Makkachin had come to rest her head on Yuuri's thigh, perhaps sensing his distress. Or maybe she was just interested in the food the slave seemed to have given up on. The man wasn't as weak to her pitiful puppy eyes as her master was, but she still managed to persuade him into slipping her a piece of cheese once in a while. She was good company, and Yuuri couldn't resist very long to the guileless affection she kept on giving him. She had quickly grown accustomed to the man's presence, and didn't hesitate to lick his fingers in comfort or to cuddle with him when she sensed something was wrong. Yuuri thought Viktor was very lucky to have her.

The lucky man in question eventually reappeared, hair now neatly combed, strong body clad in slim-fitted black and burgundy velvet, grace and confidence irradiating from him as it always did when he had to take on his royal responsibilities. Yuuri felt himself shrink beside the imposing presence, but as usual, the prince looked at him with that gentle smile of his, and the quiet authority displayed melted into something more... human. More him. Something that was even beginning to be familiar.

Two and a half hours had passed when Viktor left the meeting room, feeling tired, discouraged, and yearning for Yuuri's presence just as much as he dreaded it. Nothing quite positive had come out of his counsellors' briefings. As he already knew, Yakov and a part of his garrison, the soldiers who came back with Yuuri, were currently serving as the capital's guards at the king's palace; since most of the country's knights and warriors had gone to war, a portion of the army had to be called back to ensure some minimum protection, mostly of the monarch. Viktor didn't mind the decision at all, and it had brought him Yuuri after all, albeit in a very regretful way. What pleased the prince much less was the king's newest request, demanding an extension of service from his men. Most of the soldiers currently enrolled had done so on a voluntary basis. They had all been given a contract, stipulating that if they participated in five victorious battles, they would be released from service. But as it seemed, the conquest was so successful that most of the army would soon have fulfilled their duty. To ensure that the battlefields wouldn't suddenly be deserted of men, the king asked for a supplementary three winning battles as a minimum of service.

Yuuri's country did have an army, but it was small and disorganized for the most part, as per the pacific values of its people. They hadn't been through a conflict in hundreds of years, and had always managed to alleviate tensions through negotiations and alliances. They had entertained commercial trades with Viktor's country for a few centuries, and most likely would never expect an offense on their part in such a time of peace. Of course, Viktor's greedy king had seen this as the ideal situation for an invasion. And evidently, he had been right. Their armies had encountered little to no resistance, and were making their way through the cities and villages as easily as a butcher's knife through butter. Since the battle of Hasetsu - the conquest of Yuuri's hometown -, the men had only been getting closer and closer to the capital. It was only logical from the king to ask for an extension when so close to the goal.

Viktor was not surprised, in fact, he had anticipated something of the sort would happen when he was kindly asked to participate in the war, as the dutiful prince he was. The five-victories contract had seem much too simple, especially considering the king's usual avarice. The prince sighed. He did not have much of a choice. His citizens were already abroad, mostly young men and women seeking to prove themselves, high on victory and probably eager to keep going. Viktor thought the situation so unfair; they probably had never lost someone before, and there they were, being offered a purpose on a silver platter and promised an easy war, for which they even signed up voluntarily. And with how easy the battles had been so far, the prince wouldn't be surprised if most of them had not hit the wall of disillusionment yet. But it would come. Oh it would come, and when it did, it will be too late. He had tried to stay uninvolved in the conflict, but his own feeble armed force could not stand up to the king's, and a sly reminder of that fact ended the discussion. He would never force violence onto his people, so instead the prince would give them the choice. Viktor could not make the decision for them, just as he had not been in any position to keep them here in the first place. If his soldiers accepted the new terms of their contract, he could not force them to come back. All he could do was add a sentence or two in the letter informing his troops of the king's request, stipulating that they were free to refuse and come back home after their five victories. Not that he truly expected them to. Pride, honor, and glory were terrifyingly powerful motivators.

As his thoughts roared in his mind, his feet led him to his chambers, steps even heavier than when he had left. He had nothing to bring back to Yuuri. Nothing but news of his homeland's upcoming defeat. The prince sighed one last time as he pushed his room's door open, trying to leave his fears behind. Negativity wouldn't do; Yuuri needed him to be his backbone, he couldn't weigh him down with his own hopelessness and frustration.

Viktor walked to the door connecting their rooms, Makkachin on his heels wagging her tail happily. He knocked softly, waiting for a small voice to tell him he could come in before grabbing the doorknob. He was pleasantly surprised to feel the metal cooperate beneath his fingers. Yuuri leaving his door unlocked, even though closed, meant he was starting to trust the servants, and by extension, Viktor as well. Warmth chased away some of distress in the prince's heart.

Just as he had said he would be, the dark-haired man was comfortably snuggled in the cushions near his bed, reading the book on the country's traditional cuisine and celebration rites he had picked the day before. The brand new glasses Mila had ordered for him were delicately perched over his nose, eyes focused as they slowly moved over the words. He looked quite peaceful, in all honesty. Viktor was relieved and quite intrigued not to find him as the tensed, apprehensive ball of nerves he had expected. He did not have to heart to be the storm after the calm, so he moved black to close the door, but as soon as he did so Yuuri lifted his gaze from the paper to greet him.

"How was the meeting?" Viktor warily smiled, uneasiness filling him at Yuuri's almost trivial question.

"Well, hum, tiring I would say, as usual..." He went silent and dropped the smile. "I'm sorry, Yuuri. I don't have any news from Hasetsu. All I know is that we... it looks like we're winning the war." The prince looked down, unsure how to express how he felt. "I'm sorry."

The slave didn't say anything, simply stared at the emptiness in front of him as he softly nodded. A sad little smile stretched his lips, and he went back to reading his book. The prince frowned at the lack of reaction from his protégé, but looking closer Viktor realized the man wasn't even seeing the words in front of him, shiny eyes staring blankly at the paper. Yuuri shifted, suddenly self-conscious under the other's heavy gaze. Viktor looked away and was about to leave and give the man some space, when an idea timidly grew in his mind.

There was still a part of the castle he hadn't shown Yuuri yet. He knew the man had some sort of creative streak, so maybe he would enjoy it, but Viktor had hesitated so far to bring him, a part of him still afraid of judgmental reactions from others. However, this time seemed as good as any, and his protégé's happiness came way before his own comfort. Who knew, maybe the distraction would help the slave a bit with his grief.

"Yuuri?" The dark-haired man looked up from the paper with some effort, soft brown eyes filled with barely held back emotion. « There's... There's one last place I would like to show you. If you want to see it, that is. »

Yuur gave the thought a few moments. "Where is it? "

"Hm, well... I'd like to keep it a surprise." Viktor answered dismissively with a smile. Yuuri frowned. The prince realized his mistake and quickly explained himself. "It's nothing weird or dangerous, I promise, it's just a little... unusual. And very important to me."

The other man seemed to hesitate for a few more seconds, but curiosity and a need for distraction got the best of him, so he nodded and stood up. Viktor grabbed the wheelchair they had left at the side of Yuuri's bed, and they both went into the prince's room.

Makkachin had went back to napping on her cushion when her master had stopped giving her attention, and she barely batted an eye when both walked back in. They went on with their morning routine earlier interrupted, Yuuri getting dressed for the day and Viktor tending to Makkachin's fur. When they were ready, Yuuri sat in his rolling chair and Viktor pushed them out of the room.

To Yuuri's surprise, instead of turning to the right as they usually did, Viktor led them to the left. They passed the five or six royal suites the left wing of the palace housed , then followed the hallway and turned right. On one side guest rooms succeeded each other, and on the left, a glassed walkway led to an adjacent building. Soft carpet muted the sound of Viktor's heels and Yuuri's wheels as they stepped into the passage, contrasting with the usual echo of the otherwise marble-covered area. The bridge was bathing in light, the sun warming the air through the large windows. On the other side, they arrived in front of two wide doors, that Viktor deftly unlocked with a golden key he took out of his pocket. It got noticeably colder as they stepped inside, the stone walls and aeration apparently keeping the place cool. As they moved further into the smaller building, half-opened doors and muffled sounds told Yuuri they were in a gymnasium. Intrigued, he wondered which sport the prince played, and if he had forgotten his guest's limited capacity of participation...

After a few more turns, they approached a closed room, light and music seeping through the cracks. Viktor pushed the wooden panel open, guided them inside, and immediately went forth to greet the two people occupying the room at the moment.

But Yuuri never saw who it was the prince happily hugged.

He never heard the cheerful "Yurio! Otabek! It's been so long, how have you been!" his protector's joyful voice shouted. He barely even saw the tall mirrors covering the right wall, and the pale, used wooden floor. He only saw for an instant the naked feet of a young boy moving gracefully across the surface at the melody floating in the air. And then he was gone. Elsewhere. A few eternities away. A second before his life turned grey. Yuuri never felt his body rise to his feet, eyes wide open and yet seeing nothing. He never heard the worried voices calling out to him, once, twice, thrice. He barely felt himself suddenly fall towards the hard floor of the studio.

The studio.

A dance studio.

And then, Yuuri couldn't feel anything at all.


	8. Chapter 8: Night

**CHAPTER 8: Night**

 _He was up late. Again. There wasn't a soul to be seen as he roamed the empty hallways, guided by moonlight and years of habit. His wool socks slid soundlessly against the waxed parquet, and he made his way to his destination without interrupting anyone's slumber. He stopped in front of the familiar double doors, and pushed them open. The doors had been locked, of course, but he had had a double of the keys for years now. The dance master had known him since he was eight, and had quickly learned how to handle both his paralyzing anxiety and blinding potential. Giving him a spare key had been an efficient way to allow him to get some personal practice, as well as alleviating the crushing stress that always came with an upcoming performance. And that was exactly what he was trying to do as this time of the night; they had a show the next day, and he had been on edge all week. He could not sleep, of course, since the only thing that felt right to do was practicing. So, as he often did, he had slipped out of his bed long after everyone had fallen asleep, grabbed some clothes, and sneaked out of their room without waking up Phichit._

 _Thankfully, opposite to the studio's doors were tall windows that allowed the moon to illuminate the room. A single additional candle would suffice. He crouched in front of the mirror-covered wall on the right, lit the wick, and took a few steps back. Slowly, he let the memory of his performance's music fill him, despite the absence of his designated musician and best friend. Phichit had chosen to play the violin for this piece, and as always, he had made it match perfectly the lively feel of the piece. They had practiced together so many times in the past few days that he didn't even need to hear the music anymore to hear it in his mind. His body moved on its own accord, executing the movements precisely out of sheer muscle memory. Grace and control exuded from his body with each step he took, no hesitation to be seen._

 _However, something was still missing. The piece had been created to fit with the general idea of the show, which was to distract the crowds from the quickly escalating conflict with the neighboring country; it aimed to alleviate some of the pervasive tension felt throughout the whole region. But no matter what he did, he simply was not feeling the happiness and wonder he was suppose to convey. Through all of his performances, he had always tried to express the most honestly his deep, inner feelings, and showcasing joyfulness at this moment was far from being honest with himself. Worry, fear, and nervousness had taken over his mind weeks ago now, the nagging feeling that these diplomatic negotiations could simply not end well having never left him ever since word of the dispute had gotten out. He understood the positive intention behind holding such an event, especially in one of the county that was closest to the border, but no matter how much he tried, nothing felt right when he danced. Exasperated, he stopped halfway through his routine, went back to the middle of the room, and started again from the beginning. He only had half a night left before the show, and he would have to make the most of them and somehow make it work, if not for his sake, then for others'._

 _He had been at it for hours when exhaustion washed over his sweat-covered body. He went still, legs giving up under him. It would have to be enough for tonight, or he would not even be able to stand later in the day. He still had not managed to convey the story of the song, his reflection laughing at him with every ill-interpreted move. He had tried mustering up all of his happiest memories, but they all felt somewhat distant and foggy, and it barely made any difference. There was only one last thing he could think of that might help this hopeless situation._

 _Stumbling slightly, he dragged his tired body to a door at the back of the room. He opened it to reveal a closet, and blindly searched through the various pieces of clothing stored in it. He quickly found what he was searching for, and easily tugged the silky fabric off its hanger. He grunted as he sat down just outside of the closet, and began to remove his clothes. The yellow and gold costume lying on the floor beside him was mocking him with its happy little swirls and joyful colours as he slipped out of his training gear. Hopefully, wearing them might somehow influence how he interpreted the choreography. Somehow. He huffed and grabbed the skintight bodysuit, fatigue making his patience wear thin as he fumbled with the fasteners on the front._

 _What he didn't know was that, as he carelessly put on the first mesh-covered leg, guards and watchmen of the castle were soundlessly falling, bodies lifeless before they hit the ground. Black waves of enemy soldiers were quickly filling the hallways, making it halfway through the castle before the first scream was even heard. In an instant, the world crumbled, without him ever knowing it. People shouted and ran, doors were smashed and flesh was ripped through a noisy chaos of gurgles and swords clashing. The remaining guards were desperately trying to lead an escape, as invaders relentlessly kept coming in._

 _And there he was, fastening his last button, and taking place in the middle of the room to go through his routine again, completely oblivious to the tragedy unfolding on the other side of the doors. The walls were so thick and finely soundproofed that he barely heard a ruffle before four armed silhouettes smashed the doors open, three men and a woman, brows raised in interest as they caught sight of him._

''Oh, here's a pretty one.''

''Care to dance for us a little, lovely?''

''I bet he's a whore, look at his flashy clothes. That ass ain't on display for nothing.''

"Even if he wasn't, he shouldn't dress like that if he didn't want us to think so."

''Think the general would like to have him?''

''I'm sure he'll be nicer to us if he can finally release a bit of... stress.''

''Hey, maybe he'll even share him with us, ya know, as a reward for capturing him? I haven't seen such a fine piece of bitch in a while...''

''Don't dream too much Radley. Start by knocking him out, then we'll see what we'll do with him.''

 _Of course, he didn't understand a word of what the intruders were saying, but there was no need to. The weapons in their hands and the way their adrenaline-shot eyes ogled him made it clear they didn't want him any good. Pure fear rushed through his body, chasing away the tiredness he felt a second ago in the blink of an eye. He quickly assessed his situation; he was on the fourth floor, and a jump out of the windows was out of the question. There was only one exit, which was currently blocked by the four soldiers, and he had no weapons at his disposition, except for the candle lying on the floor a few feet away from him. It was desperate, at four against one, but it would have to do. He reached for the candle before the others could make a move and threw it at the closest soldier, who screeched in pain and fell back against the wall when the hot wax landed on his face. He then jumped through the newly created opening, reaching for the door with all he had. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough; the woman quickly reacted and grabbed his arm mid-sprint, using his momentum to throw him on the floor. He scrambled to get up, but wasn't nearly fast enough, and a heavy fist immediately connected with the right side of his face. His glasses went flying across the room, and he was effectively glued back to the ground. Black spots appeared in his field of view and dizziness filled him as he tried to get up yet again, despair keeping him moving despite his exhausted state, but a second hit landed hardly on the back of his head. Yuuri lost consciousness before he even hit the floor._

His whole world seemed consumed by fog, sounds and sights barely reaching him through the white noise. He thought he could hear his name being called repeatedly above him, but then again, he might have just been dreaming. Something damp and cold kept being pressed against his forehead, and there seemed to be another one or two voices speaking in hushed words around him. Confused, Yuuri struggled to crack open his eyelids, only to see nothing but darkness. It took a moment for his vision to come back to him, black spots gradually vanishing from his sight. The first thing he saw were crystal blue eyes clouded with concern he didn't quite recognize, even though they felt familiar. Not remembering where he was, he curiously looked around him, but as soon as he recognized the typical mirrors and wooden floors of a studio, panic brutally flooded his thoughts all over again. Increasingly violent shivers began wracking his body, wild eyes instinctively searching for an exit.

''Yuuri? _Yuuri, what's wrong?_ '' He could barely suck in small, shallow breaths, much less answer a question he wasn't even sure to comprehend. His hands moved on their own, one of them tightly grabbing hold of a silky shirt, nails digging in the strong arm muscles underneath it, while the other weakly shoved at a shoulder. His body was still unsure whether he should cling to the man holding him or get away from him as soon as possible, images of other men in armor mingling with the one in front of him. Somehow, Yuuri managed to gather whatever snippets of sense he could find through the panic and croak out a few words.

''G-g-g... Get me out... Get m-me out... Get me out! GET ME OUT!''

Before he knew it, he was screaming at the top of his lungs, shaking limbs kicking and hitting whatever felt like it was holding him back. Despite Yuuri's violent struggle, Viktor managed to half-carry, half-drag him out of the room, and he quickly scrambled away from the door the second he was laid on the floor in front of it. His back soon hit the wall behind him, and he raised his knees against his heaving chest, protectively wrapping his arms around himself.

As soon as he got out, Yuuri stopped screaming and began mumbling in his mother tongue instead, much to a very worried Viktor's dismay, who rushed to his side after closing the door.

"Yuuri, I can't understand what you're saying. Please tell me what's going on."

Yuuri didn't seem to even notice him, and kept rambling to shadows and people only his eyes could see.

" _Please, please don't hurt me... Let me go, please let me go, my parents will be worried, please, have mercy..._ "

Viktor grabbed a hand that was scratching too hard one of Yuuri's leg, holding it between his even though it tried to snap back to its original position. He held it away nonetheless, and tried to make eye contact with the man in front of him.

"Yuuri, please, I need you to listen to me. You are hurting yourself. You need to try and breathe, all right? Can you breathe with me?"

Viktor took the hand he was still miraculously holding and spread it against his chest, before inhaling deeply. He waited a few instants before slowly letting the air out, keeping his gaze locked on the other's eyes. He repeated the gesture again and again, waiting for Yuuri to eventually understand what he was doing and try to mimic him. Relief washed over him when his protégé finally did so, even though his breaths were staggered and irregular.

"Yes, that's perfect Yuuri, you're doing great. Keep breathing with me, that's right."

Seconds melted into minutes, time slowing down as Yuuri gradually moved from taking ragged inspirations to deeper, more controlled ones, albeit still shakingly. His eyes seemed to regain some focus, and they finally widened in recognition as they gazed over Viktor's face. However, they suddenly became blurry as they quickly filled with tears, a choked sob escaping his lips. Yuuri slowly lowered his forehead to his knees, muffling his soft cries in the fancy fabric of his pants. The hand that had been laid on Viktor's chest was now gripping the man's shirt, imperceptibly tugging him closer. Hesitantly, the prince moved forward to wrap an arm around his protégé's small frame. To his surprise, Yuuri simply leaned against him, his fingers still clutching at the fabric.

"...Thank you." Yuuri whispered between two soft sobs. "I'm sorry."

Viktor did not answer right away, gently caressing Yuuri's shoulder for a few moments, basking in how blessed he felt for being able to do so.

"Don't apologize. I'm the one who's sorry for making you go through this. I'm not sure what happened, but whatever triggered it, I won't expose you to it again."

Despite what he said, Yuuri tensed. He knew Viktor simply meant to reassure him, but the prospect of having to tell the prince why he had panicked terrified him. His... _experience_ with this country's people had taught him dancers did not have a very good social status here, to say the least. They were often associated with prostitutes, and well... sex workers were not faring any better. He avoided telling Viktor of his profession in the first place for this reason, instead bending the truth and saying he worked in the kitchens with his parents (which he did, but only occasionally). Yuuri still wasn't sure he could tell the prince he was a dancer without any consequences; if he knew, he might change his mind about his faith. After all, he didn't even know why Viktor had brought him to the studio, perhaps he simply wanted to introduce him to his friends, or maybe he wanted to show him his future career. In any case, Yuuri simply could not risk revealing himself without being entirely sure of the prince's intentions. However, he did feel like he owed him some explanation. After all, it seemed Viktor had only helped him through the panic attack, and the man must have been very confused. So, even though he hadn't asked for one, Yuuri gave him half of an explanation, wiping his last tears before murmuring the words.

"I was in a dance studio when I was taken away."

Yuuri heard Viktor take in a sharp breath, his strong body tensing. Yuuri stayed still, praying he hadn't said too much and jeopardized himself. However, Viktor did not say a word. Instead, he simply held Yuuri a little closer, his second arm joining the first to hold him protectively.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have taken you here without telling you where we were going... I won't take you back there again. Unless you want me too... or feel ready too."

Yuuri was not sure what the prince was apologizing for; how could he have known anyway? _He_ should be the one apologizing for causing him so much trouble.

"Yuuri, would you like me to bring you back to your room?" He hesitated for a moment before nodding against the wide chest.

"Yes, I would like that, but the wheelchair is-"

"Do not worry about that, I'll take care of it."

To Yuuri's surprise, instead of getting up to retrieve the chair in the studio, the prince simply slid an arm under his knees and lowered the other to his waist. He leaned away a bit to look into Yuuri's eyes, asking him wordlessly if this was okay. Understanding what Viktor was trying to do, Yuuri snuggled closer, nodding. Reassured and amazed at how trusting Yuuri was, the prince lifted him, proudly carrying him back to his chambers with the strength of his arms. Thankfully, he was not worried they would encounter any prying eyes, as they only had to walk through the royal quarters to get back. Yuuri somehow seemed to sense that he was safe, since he turned his head towards Viktor's chest and closed his eyes, hand relaxing the grip it still had on the man's shirt. Once they arrived in front of his suite's door, Yuuri simply reached into his pocket for the key Viktor had had made for him a few days after his arrival, unlocking it without ever making a move to slip out of his arms. A smile tugged at the prince's lips, surprised but encouraged that Yuuri would not even try to get out of his grasp. He carried him inside and took him to his bed, guessing that was where the smaller man would want to be. Indeed, Yuuri was slightly yawning against his chest, the adrenaline rush from the panic attack now taking its toll on his body. Viktor laid him on top of his covers, grabbing a light blanket at the edge of the bed to cover him. The day was still hot, he should not need anything more. A fierce joy bloomed in the prince's chest at seeing the other not even move a limb to help him, and let himself be tucked in. The satisfaction Viktor felt at being able to take care of Yuuri almost shocked him with its intensity. Almost, because the prince knew he was slightly too attached to Yuuri compared to what he should be. He knew he should not feel this way, he _really_ should not, especially for a man he had only met two weeks ago, a man who was there against his will, a man who had been given to him specifically to submit to him. But when Yuuri was looking at him with bleary eyes, muttering a thank you with a soft smile before his lids simply felt too heavy to properly keep open, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered as long as he was able to take care of him, and as long as Yuuri was kept happy and could slowly heal in peace. He would be satisfied with what he had, as long as he could at least have that. So, instead of acting upon his desire to lean down and kiss the other man's forehead and pamper him further, Viktor simply ran his fingers through the dark, silky strands, and left Yuuri to his slumber.


End file.
